Primer  of  Psychology 


Ladd 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT   OF   CAPT.   AND    MRS. 
PAUL  MCBRIDE  PERIGORD 


A^      ''» 


yNIVEKSITY  of  CALIFC^RJNi^ 

AT 

LOS  ANGELES 

LIBRARY 


PRIMER  OF   PSYCHOLOGY 


PROFESSOR   LADD'S  WORKS. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  MIND.  An  Essay  in  the  Metaphysics  of 
Psychology.     8vo.     $3.00. 

INTRODUCTION  TO  PHILOSOPHY.  An  Inquiry  after  a 
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Ultimate  Reality.     8vo.     $3.00. 

PRIMER    OF    PSYCHOLOGY.      12nno.     $1  00  wet. 

PSYCHOLOGY  ;  DESCRIPTIVE  AND  EXPLANATORY.  A 
Treatise  of  the  Phenomena,  Laws,  and  Development  of 
Human  Mental  Life.     8vo.     $4.50. 

OUTLINES  OF  PHYSIOLOGICAL  PSYCHOLOGY.  A  Text-book 
on  Mental  Science  for  Academies  and  Colleges.  Illustrated. 
8vo.     $2.00. 

ELEMENTS  OF  PHYSIOLOGICAL  PSYCHOLOGY.  A  Treat- 
ise of  the  Ac-  /ties  and  Nature  of  the  Mind,  from  the  Physical 
and  Experimental  Point  of  View.  With  numerous  illustrations. 
8vo.     $4.50. 

THE  DOCTRINE  OF  SACRED  SCRIPTURE.  A  Critical,  His- 
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WHAT  IS  THE  BIBLE?  An  Inquiry  into  the  Origin  and  Nature 
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cal Study.     12mo.     $2.00. 

THE  PRINCIPLES  OF  CHURCH  POLITY.     Crown  8vo.     $2.50. 


PRIMER 


OF 


SYCHOLOGY 


BY 


GEORGE  TRUMBULL  LADD 

PROFESSOR  OF  PHILOSOPHY  IN  YALE  UNIVERSITY 


NEW  YOJtK 

CHAELES  SCKIBNEK'S  SONH 

1805 


n^ 


Copyright,  1S94,  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


..    :  .  •  • .    •  •  < 


TROW  DIRECTOBY 

MINTING  AND  BOOKDINDING  OOMPANV 

NEW  YORK 


.33  F 


r^ 


THIS 

BOOK 

IS  DEDICATED 

TO   THE   YOUNG   DAUGHTEU 

OF    MY     FRIEND    AND     COLLEAGUE 

WHO   HAS    BEEN   KIND    ENOUGH    TO    READ 

IT   AND   TO   SAY   THAT   SHE   HAS 

UNDERSTOOD   AND 

ENJOYED 

IT 


i 


PKEFACE 

The  writing-  of  this  little  book  was  undertaken  in 
part  as  a  recreation  between  two  much  more  bulky 
and  serious  pieces  of  work.  From  the  loersonal 
point  of  view  it  may  be  regarded  as  the  result  of  a 
feeling"  of  curiosity — of  the  author's  desire  to  make 
the  experiment  of  telling,  in  a  manner  to  correspond 
fairlj^  well  with  its  chosen  title,  the  stor}'^  of  the  men- 
tal life.  As  the  dedication  shows,  a  young  friend 
was  kind  enough  to  offer  herself  as  both  subject  for 
the  experiment  and  judge  of  its  result,  I  have  tried 
to  make  my  confidence  in  the  intelligence  of  my 
youthful  critic  the  measure  of  my  success. 
^  But  besides  the  more  personal  interest  in  such  an 

^  endeavor,  I  have  hoped  in  some  degree  to  supply 
r^  what  I  believe  to  be  a  real  need.  For  it  cannot 
p  be  doubted  that  there  are  many  adults,  as  well  as 
XI  youths,  who  would  find  some  pleasure  and  i)erhaps 
^       niore  profit   in   reading  a   very   brief  and  simple 

•       treatise  on  psychology. 

^  While   adopting    the    title   of   "  Primer,"   it   has 

^^       l)een  my  aim  to  avoid  both  of  two  extremes.     One 

of  these  is  the  extreme  of  "  talking  down  "  to  the 

O4      reader  in  such  manner  as  to  keisp  iiiiplcNisantly  be- 

O       fore  him  his  own  lack  of  familiarity  with  llu!  subject 


\in  PREFACE 

— not  to  say  lack  of  intellig-ence  and  of  willingness 
to  think  for  himself  while  acquiring-  the  information 
and  thoughts  furnished  by  others.  It  is  my  experi- 
ence that  intelligent  and  self-respecting  youth  re- 
sent this  ;  and,  certainly,  it  is  offensive  to  almost  all 
of  that  maturer  audience  which  any  genuine  scholar 
would  care  to  reach.  The  other  extreme  is  that  of 
dryness  and  of  difficulty  due  to  excessive  condensa- 
tion without  di'opping  the  use  of  technical  language 
and  of  strictly  scientific  modes  in  presenting  the  re- 
sults of  previous  researches. 

In  a  word,  this  book  simply  aims  to  narrate  some 
of  the  more  obvious  facts  and  principles  known  to 
modern  scientific  psychology  in  plain  and  familiar 
English,  and  in  an  orderly  but  wholly  untechnical 
way.  Anything  like  completeness,  whether  as  re- 
spects the  topics  touched  upon  or  the  treatment 
given  to  any  one  of  these  topics,  must  not  be  ex- 
pected. 

I  hope  and  expect  that  this  book  will  be  useful 
for  the  instruction  of  the  young  in  the  important 
subject  with  which  it  deals.  It  would  seem  not  un- 
reasonable also  to  think  that  it  will  be  welcome  to 
many  adults  who  are  willing  to  s^jend  a  few  (but 
only  afeiv)  hours  on  easy  lessons  in  psycliology.  It 
is  likely,  too,  that  it  may  prepare  tlie  way,  with  both 
classes  of  readers,  for  the  study  of  larger  and  more 
serious  works  on  the  same  subject. 

It  is  worth  while  only  to  add  that  the  considerable 
number  of  experiments  constantly  used  to  illustrate 
each  topic  can,  with  few  exceptions,  be  performed 


PREFACE  IX 


by  any  reader.  Most  of  them  require  little  or  no 
apparatus  ;  and,  of  course,  by  folloAving-  them  out 
for  one's  self  the  interest  and  value  of  so  elementary 
a  study  will  be  greatly  increased.  Finally  :  this 
book  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  an  abridgment  of  any 
other  existing-  work,  whether  by  its  author  or  by 
other  writers  on  psychology.  It  is  what  its  name 
best  indicates— a  "  Primer." 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAOE8 

The  Mind  and  its  Activities, 1-15 

What  is  Psychology  '? — The  Point  of  View. — A  Study  of  Re- 
lations.— A  Study  of  the  Self. — Consciousness  and  .Mind. 
— Definition  of  Psychology. — How  to  Study  Psychology. — 
Self-consciousness  or  Introspection. — Sources  of  Psychol- 
ogy.— Experiment  in  Psychology. — Method  in  Psychologj'. 
— The  Faculties  of  the  Mind. — Benefits  of  Psychology. 


CHAPTER   II. 
Consciousness  and  Attention, 16-31 

Meaning  of  the  Term  Consciousness. — State  of  Conscious- 
ness.— Field  of  Consciousness. — K.\tent  of  (Consciousness. 
— Intensity  of  Consciousness. — Speed  of  Consciousness. — 
Character  of  Consciousness. — Conditions  of  Conscious- 
ness.— Attention. — Distribution  of  Attention. — Rise  aiul 
Fall  of  Attention. — Conditions  of  Attention. — Kinds  of 
Attention. — Attention  and  Discrimination. — Attention 
and  Feeling. — Attention  and  Will. — Nature  of  Attention. 
—  Self-consciousncBs. 

CHAPTER   III. 

Sensations, .'!'J  Til 

Nature  of  Seiisatidn. — Orii^iii  of  SruHJitioiiH. — (MaHWH  of  Srn 
Kations. — SenHationH  ofSnieil.  —  SensiitionH  of  'I'asti- •    Sni- 
BatiouH  of  Sound. — Kinds  of   Sounds.— Pitch   i>t    Tunes. 


Xii  TABLE   OF   CONTENTS 

—Sensations  of  Light  and  Color.— Kinds  of  Visual  Sen- 
sations.— Mixing  of  Colors.— Sensations  of  Pressure. — 
Sensations  of  Temperature. — Muscular  Sensations. — Sen- 
sations of  the  Joints. — Organic  Sensations. — Causes  of 
Difference  in  Sensations. — Sensations  and  the  Organism. 
— Quality  of  Sensations  and  of  Stimulus. — Intensity  of 
Sensations. — Weber's  Law. — Limits  of  Sensation. — Local 
Signs. — Sensations  of  Motion  and  Position. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

PAGES 

FEELrNG, 52-67 

Nature  of  Feeling.— Conditions  of  Feeling— Kinds  of  Feel- 
ing.—Sensuous  Feelings.— Feelings  of  Relation.— Feeling 
as  Pleasure-Pain —Conditions  of  Pleasure-Pain.— Mixed 
Pleasure  and  Pain. — Rhythm  of  Pleasure  and  Pain. — 
Pleasures  of  Rhythm. — Effect  of  Repetition. — Diffusion 
of  Feelings. 

CHAPTER  V. 
Mental  Images  and  Ideas, G8-88 

Nature  of  the  Mental  Image  or  Idea. — After-images — Fad- 
ing of  Mental  Images. — Sensations  and  Mental  Images. — 
Conditions  of  Mental  Images  — Images  and  Ideas. — Inten- 
sity of  Ideas. — Life-likeness  of  Ideas. — Accompaniments 
of  Ideas. — Fusion  of  Ideas. — Spontaneous  Recurrence  of 
Ideas. — Series  of  Ideas. — "Freeing"  of  Ideas. — Associa- 
tion of  Ideas. — Laws  of  Association. — Principle  of  Con- 
tiguity.— Special  Laws  of  Association. 


CHAPTER  YI. 
Smell,  Taste,  and  Touch, 89-105 

Nature  of  Perception.  — Development  of  Perception. — Classes 
of  Perceptions. — Perceptions  of  Smell. — Perceptions  of 
Taste. — Perceptions   of  Touch. — Earliest   Knowledge   of 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS  Xlll 

the  Body  by  Touch. — Perceptions  of  Motion  by  Touch. — 
Perceptions  of  Position  on  the  Skin. — Positions  of  the 
Movable  Parts. — Development  of  Perception  by  Touch. — 
Distinction  of  our  Body  and  other  Bodies. — Qualities  of 
Bodies  by  Touch. — Perception  of  Distant  Bodies  by 
Touch. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

PAOEP 

Heamng  axd  Sight, 106-122 

Perceptions  of  Hearing. — Place  of  Sounds  — Qualities  of 
Bodies  by  Sound. — Perceptions  of  Sight. — Means  for  Vis- 
ual Perception. — Tw^o  Principles  of  Vi.sual  Percejition. — 
Formation  of  a  Visual  Image. — Effects  of  Moving  the  Eye. 
— Accommodation  of  the  Eye. — The  Visual  Object. — The 
Field  of  Vision. — Images  of  the  Two  Eyes. — Movement  of 
the  Tvv'o  Eyes. — Instantaneous  Vision. — Secondary  Helps 
to  Vision — Influence  of  Suggestion  on  Sight. — Influence 
of  Feeling  on  Sight. — Influence  of  Will  on  Sight. — Illu- 
Bions  of  Sight. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Memory  .vnd  Imagination, 123-140 

Difference  between  Memory  and  Imagination. — Thought  and 
Memory. — Stages  of  Memory. — Memory  as  Retention. — 
Conditions  of  Retentive  Memory. — Memory  as  Reproduc- 
tion.— Memory  as  Recollection.— Memory  as  Recognition. 
— Kinds  of  Memory. — Art  of  Remembering. — Nature  of 
Imagination. — Conditions  of  Imagination. — Reproductive 
anil  Productive  Imagination.— Creative  Imagination. — 
Kinds  of  Imagination. 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Thought  and  Language, 1 11  1.-^7 

Discriminating  ConsciouHnesH. — PhyBiological  ConditiouB  of 
Intellect. — Mental  Activity  in  Diseriminiition.— CoHHcioim- 
ncBBof  licHemWauce. — CouuciousucHB  of  Differcucc. — Com- 


xiv  TABLE   OF   CONTENTS 

parison. — Primary  Judgment. — Developed  Processes  of 
Thought. — Stages  or  Forms  of  Thought. — Nature  of  a 
Concept. — Kinds  and  Qualities  of  Concepts. — Logical  Judg- 
ments.— Forms  of  Judgment. — Language  and  Thought. — 
The  Nature  of  Language. — Words  and  Thoughts.— Origin 
of  Language. 


CHAPTER  X. 

PAGES 

Reasoning  and  Knowledge, 158-174= 

Reasoning  in  Perception  by  the  Senses. — Nature  of  True 
Reasoning. — Nature  of  the  Reason  or  "  Ground." — Kinds 
of  Reasoning. — Forms  and  Figures  of  Reasoning. — Induc- 
tion and  Deduction. — Principle  of  All  Argument. — Tests 
of  Reasoning.  —Nature  of  Knowledge. — Belief  and  Knowl- 
edge.— Development  of  Knowledge. — Kinds  of  Knowl- 
edge. 


CHAPTER  XI. 
Emotions,  Sentiments,  and  Desires, 175-193 

Classes  of  Feelings. — Nature  of  an  Emotion. — Primary 
Kinds  of  Emotions. — Development  of  an  Emotion. — Emo- 
tions and  Thoughts. — Complexity  of  the  Emotions. — Pas- 
sions and  Emotions. — Nature  of  the  Sentiments. — Classes 
of  Sentiments. — The  Intellectual  Sentiments. — The  JEs- 
thetical  Sentiments. — Kinds  of  the  Beautiful. — The  Ethi- 
cal Sentiments. — Nature  of  Conscience. — Nature  of  the 
Desires. — Kinds  of  the  Desires. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
Will  and  Character, 194-209 

Nature  of  Conation. — Conditions  of  Conation. — Kinds  of 
Movement. — Nature  of  "Volition. — Nature  of  Deliberation. 
—Resolution  of  Deliberation.— Faculties  Employed  in 
Will.— Nature  of  Choice.— Formation  of  Plans  and  Pur- 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS  XV 

poses.— Execution  of  Plana  and  Purposes.— Freedom  of 
Will.— The  Conception  of  Character.- Development  of 
Character. 


CHAPTEE  XIII. 

PAOEH 

Tempek.^iient  and  Development, 210-224 

Doctrine  of  Temperament —Kinds  of  Temperament.— Basis 
of  Temperament.— Difference  of  the  Sexes.— Effect  of  Age 
and  Race.— General  Principles  of  .Mental  Life.— The  Prin- 
ciple of  Continuity.— Principle  of  Relativity.— The  Prin- 
ciple of  Solidarity. — Principle  of  Pinal  Purpose. 


PRIMES  OF  PSYCHOLOGY 

CHAPTEK  I 

THE  MIND  AND  ITS  ACTIVITIES 

No  one  can  f idly  understand  wliat  Ps.ycholog-y  is, 
or  liow  to  study  it,  who  has  not  already  given  much 
attention  to  this  subject.  And  if  we  consult  those 
whose  business  it  is  to  inform  us,  we  shall  doubtless 
find  some  difference  of  views  in  their  answers  to  both 
these  questions.  But  the  same  thing-  is  true,  to  a 
large  extent,  of  every  subject  of  study ;  for  often 
the  definitions  which  teachers  give  earliest  to  their 
pupils,  or  which  the  writers  of  books  jdace  upon 
their  first  pages,  are  among  the  last  things  to  re- 
ceive general  agreement  from  scientific  investiga- 
tors. This  is,  to  some  extent,  true  of  all  the  sciences  ; 
and  there  are  certain  reasons  why  it  is  especially 
true  of  the  science  we  are  about  to  study. 

What  is  Psycholog-y? — In  s])itc  of  all  diniculties, 
however,  it  is  possible  to  answer  this  question  in  ;t 
manner  that  will  eiiabhi  one  to  begin  stutly  with 
a  fairly  clear  notion  of  both  subj(>ct  and  iikIIkkI. 
Only  it  will  be  necessai-y  t(i  use  some  woids  in  llio 
definition,  the  meaning-  of  which  nnist  \h'  left  to  bo 
made  clearer  as  th(;  study  of  tl)(!  subject  advance's. 
In  considering  AVHrnf  is  Psycholo-jy  ?  we  may  take 


2  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

our  start  from  any  of  the  experiences  of  tlie  daily 
life.  For  it  is  one  advantage,  at  least,  wliicli  tliiti 
study  has  over  all  others,  that  its  facts  and  speci- 
mens do  not  have  to  be  sought  at  a  distance  or 
bought  with  money  from  those  who  have  collected 
them — as  is  the  case  with  botany,  geology,  physi- 
ology, etc.  We  all  always  carry  the  facts  about  with 
us ;  we  are  ourselves  the  specimens  to  be  studied. 

Let,  then,  any  of  the  most  familiar  of  ones  experi- 
ences be  taken  as  examples.  Suppose,  for  instance, 
that  while  walking  on  the  street  the  attention  is 
attracted  to  some  person  approaching  from  a  dis- 
tance. At  first  we  cannot  see  this  person  clearly ; 
and  so  we  ask  ourselves  the  question :  Who  can 
that  be  who  is  coming  this  way  in  the  distance  ?  It 
is  likely  that  interest  is  now  awakened  to  answer  the 
problem  we  have  thus  set  ourselves.  We  look  more 
intently,  and  in  the  meantime  think  diligently  whom 
this  is  like  ;  or  who  it  is  probable  would  be  coming 
this  way  at  this  particular  time.  Soon  the  features 
and  the  dress  are  discerned  more  perfectly ;  but  as 
yet  we  cannot  recognize  the  person  or  give  to  him 
his  name.  As  might  popularly  be  said :  we  cannot 
"  imagine  "  who  this  can  possibly  be.  All  at  once, 
however,  recognition  takes  place ;  it  comes  into 
our  minds  that  this  is  Mr.  X.,  whom  we  met  at  the 
sea-side  last  summer,  and  with  whom  we  remember 
to  have  spent  some  hours  in  rowing  or  lawn  tennis. 
Thereupon  a  feeling  of  pleased  gratification  takes 
the  place  of  the  previous  feeling,  which  was  that  of 
being  interested  and  yet  puzzled  and  thoughtful  in 


THE    MIXD    AXD    ITS    ACTIVITIES  3 

the  effort  to  remember.  We  immediately  make 
plaus  to  invite  him  to  dinner  and  to  show  him  about 
the  town ;  but  remembering-  now  that  we  have  an 
eng-agement  already  made  which  we  ought  to  keep,  ,•? 
change  of  feeling  again  occurs.  And  liually  we 
choose  between  two  possible  courses,  after  a  quick 
process  of  reasoning,  in  which  we  picture  to  ourselves 
the  probable  advantages  or  disadvantages  of  either 
course. 

The  Point  of  View. — Experiences  like  those  just 
described  happen  often  enough  in  the  life  of  every 
one.  But  they  are  not  ordinarily  regarded  from  the 
point  of  view  which  psychology  takes.  Should  this 
particular  experience  occur  with  any  one  of  us  pre- 
cisely as  it  has  been  narrated,  it  would  not  be  our 
own  activities,  as  such,  in  which  we  should  probably 
be  interested.  It  would  rather  be  the  solution  of  the 
questions  :  Who  is  the  person  approaching  ?  AVhat 
shall  I  call  him  ?  How  shall  I  greet  him  ?  and, 
What  shall  I  do  with  him  after  we  have  met  ?  wliich 
would  interest  us.  That  is,  our  problems  would  bo 
"practical."  They  would  have  little  or  nothing  to 
do  with  our  own  thoughts,  feelings,  and  plans,  <(s 
.such  ;  but  everything  to  do  with  the  objc^cts  aljout 
which  we  were  thinking,  toward  which  our  feelings 
were  excited,  or  with  reference  to  wliich  wo  were 
planning.  This  ordinary  practical  point  of  view  is 
sometimes  called  ohjccttDe. 

Psychology,  however,  coinpletoly  changes  tho 
point  of  view  from  whidi  io  regard  all  events  like 
the   foregoing.      From   its   changed    point   of   viciW 


4  PEIMER    OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

then  let  ns  briefly  consider  anew  tlie  same  narrative. 
And,  first  of  all,  we  notice  that  the  narrative  speaks 
of  "  attention  "  as  being"  attracted  and  then  willing-ly 
fixed  upon  an  object;  of  "perception,"  or  the  "knowl- 
edg-e  "  of  what  the  object  is,  as  being  g-ained  by  use 
of  the  "senses"  (in  this  case,  the  eyes),  and  by 
"  thinking- "  and  "  remembering  "  until  clear  "  recog- 
nition "  takes  place;  of  "feelings"  that  change 
their  character  and  tone  of  "  pleasure  "  or  "  pain ;" 
and,  finally,  of  "  plans  "  and  "  choices,"  and  of  the 
carrying  of  them  out  in  courses  of  conduct.  Now, 
aitention,  perception,  thinking,  remembering,  feeling, 
whether  painful  or  pleasurable,  and  planning  and 
choosing — all  of  tlieni,  as  such,  and  for  their  mvn  sake 
— are  the  facts  wliich  jysychology  studies. 

A  Study  of  Relations — But  let  us  return  again  to 
the  narrative,  and  warm  and  enliven  it  by  recalling 
something  similar  in  our  own  experience.  This 
narrative  plainly  implies  what  the  examination  of 
all  experience  proves — namely,  that  the  different 
forms  of  experience  (such  as  attention,  perceiving, 
remembering,  etc.)  depend  upon  each  other.  The 
story,  as  it  Avas  just  told,  showed  how  the  feeling  of 
interest  awakened  and  fixed  the  attention ;  and  how 
attention  influenced  the  growth  of  percei:>tion.  For 
if  we  had  not  been  interested  and  attentive,  we 
should  probably  have  passed  the  person  by  without 
recognizing  him.  The  story  also  showed  how  to 
notice  likenesses  and  unlikenesses,  and  to  imagine, 
to  remember,  and  to  think,  are  necessary  in  order  to 
perceive   things  with   a  full  recognition.     It   also 


THE   MIND    AND   ITS   ACTIVITIES  5 

showed  how  feeling-s  of  interest  and  of  exjDectation, 
and  the  like,  influence  perceptions  and  thoug-hts ; 
and  how,  in  turn,  j)6i"ceptious,  memories,  and 
thoughts  influence  the  feelings.  And,  finally,  feel- 
ings were  seen  to  lead  to  plans  and  choices.  Al- 
though, if  we  think  of  it  in  the  right  way,  tlnu'e  was 
a  sort  of  plan,  or  choice,  impliixl  in  the  very  deter- 
mination to  solve  for  ourselves  the  question.  Who  is 
that  person  in  the  distance?  as  well  as  in  all  the 
effort  of  attention  and  memory  which  finally  led  to 
the  solution  of  this  question. 

A  Study  of  the  Self. — Only  a  little  more  thought 
upon  the  meaning  of  our  narrative  is  necessary  to 
discover  another  fact  which  is  very  important  to  a 
correct  understanding  of  the  whole  matter.  If  we 
ask  ourselves.  Whose  was  the  perception,  the  think- 
ing, the  feeling,  the  planning,  etc.?  we  at  once  an- 
swer :  "  They  were  all  mine,  of  course."  /  looked  ; 
/perceived;  /remembered;  /felt  pleased  or  puz- 
zled ;  /formed  the  plans  and  made  the  choices.  But 
now  if  the  question  be  raised,  How  do  you  know 
this  ;  how  do  you  know  that  the  facts  of  perceiving, 
thinking,  feeling,  and  planning,  all  belonged  to  your 
self?  tlie  ordinary  person  would,  probal)ly,only  stare 
in  reply.  ]>ut  the  stare  would  amount  to  saying,  "  It 
is  quite  beyond  my  ]iower  to  conceive;  of  such  fac;fs  as 
these  us  belonging  to  any  other  being  than  a  Self." 
Indeed,  when  I  know  that  tln^y  are  occurring,  or 
remombiu-  that  tliey  have  occnnc(l,  I  know  tlicni  and 
remember  tlniin  only  as  "s(!lf-b(!h)nging."  I  am  the 
subject  of  all  the  facts  thus  known  or  remembered  by 


6  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

me.  This,  then,  is  the  point  of  view  taken  by  psy- 
chology. It  is  called  the  subjective  point  of  view. 
For  psychology  is  a  study  of  the  experiences  and 
doings  of  a  "  subject,"  or  "  self." 

We  see,  then,  that  psychology  regards  all  the  facts 
lohich  it  studies  as  connected  together,  and  as  belonging 
to  some  so-called  "  szdject,"  or  person,  which  each  one 
of  us  ordinarily  calls  "  /,"  or  "  myself. "  Only  by 
studying  its  facts  in  this  subjective  connection  can 
it  make  any  progress  as  a  science.  For  the  facts 
which  it  studies  are  these  very  thoughts,  feelings, 
and  plans,  regarded  by  each  subject  of  them,  when- 
ever he  regards  them  at  all,  as  peculiarly  his  own. 

Consciousness  and  Mind. — Thus  far  we  have  spoken 
of  several  classes  of  those  facts  which  psychology 
studies,  such  as  facts  of  attention,  of  perception  by  the 
senses,  of  remembering,  thinking,  feeling,  planning, 
and  the  like.  But  some  term  is  needed  which  may 
be  applied  to  them  all  in  common.  Tor  certainly  all 
these  facts,  considered  as  psychology  studies  them, 
really  have  something  in  common.  We  will  now 
call  that  which  belongs  to  them  all  in  common,  by 
the  name  "  consciousness  ;  "  and  Avill  leave  the  ques- 
tion as  to  what  is  meant  by  consciousness  to  be  an- 
swered more  particularly,  if  this  is  possible,  later 
on.  Attention,  perception,  memory,  imagination, 
thought,  feeling,  and  choice,  may  then  all  be  called 
"  forms  of  consciousness."  Or,  better,  attending  to 
anything,  whatever  it  may  be,  perceiving  anything, 
whatever  the  perceived  object  may  be,  remembering 
anything,  whatever  the  particular  thing  remembered 


THE   •>[IXI)    AND   ITS   ACTIVITIES  7 

may  be,  etc.,  are  all  activities  or  "states  of  conscious- 
ness." 

But  it  is  ice  that  are  conscious  in  all  these  different 
forms  ;  it  is  toe  that  perform  all  these  different  activ- 
ities, or  exist  in  all  these  different  states.  To  our- 
selves, reo-arded  as  capable  of  being-  conscious  and 
as  actually  being-  conscious  in  all  these  different 
f t)rms,  the  name  "  Mind  "  (or  "  Soul  ")  may  be  g-iven. 
And  then  the  adjective  "  mental "  (or  "  psychical ") 
may  be  applied  to  all  these  same  facts,  activities, 
and  states.  All  of  them  taken  together  may  then  be 
spoken  of  as  our  mental  life,  as  the  life  of  the  Self, 
or  Mind. 

Definition  of  Psycholog^y.— What  has  thus  far  been 
said  may  now  be  summed  up  in  the  following-  defini- 
tion :  Paychology  is  the  science  of  the  facts  or  states  of 
consciousness,  as  such,  and  thus  of  the  life  of  that  sub- 
ject of  the  states  which  is  called  the  Self,  or  the  Mind. 
As  a  science,  it  must  not  only  describe  the  facts,  tell 
what  they  are,  and  how  they  are  distinguished  from 
each  other  as  like  or  unlike,  but  it  must  also  exi)lain 
them  by  showing  under  what  conditions  (hey  occur, 
what  order  in  occurrence  tliey  follow,  nnd  how  Hk; 
more  complex  and  later  ones  depend  upon  those 
which  are  simpler  and  earli(U-.  Psychology  there- 
fore aims  to  describe  and  to  explain  tlu^  <jri>irlli  of 
n)e73t;d  lif(!. 

How  to  Study  Psychology — The  (pieslion  of  .M<lliod 
in  this  science,  as  '\\\  any  otlior,  is  simply  the  (|iics- 
tion  how  l>est  to  find  out  what  the  facts  are,  and  then 
to  explain  them.     But  tin;   very   nature  of  the  facts 


8  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

with  wliicli  psycholog"}"  deals  makes  its  method 
peculiar.  The  oiil}^  way  to  find  out  auy  class  of  facts, 
as  facts,  is,  of  course,  to  observe  them ;  in  order  to 
describe  them  as  the}^  actually  are,  as  well  as  to 
explain  them  in  the  form  in  which  they  require  to  be 
explained,  it  is  necessary  to  observe  the  facts  accu- 
rately. Now,  properly  siDeaking",  no  one  can  observe 
the  facts  of  your  consciousness  but  yourself,  whose 
conscious  facts  they  are  ;  and  the  same  thing-  is  true  of 
me  and  the  facts  of  my  consciousness ;  and  so  of  every 
conscious  mind.  For  example,  I  may  know  or  g-uess 
that  you  have  the  pain  of  toothache,  or  that  you  are 
happy  in  the  expectation  of  a  visit  from  a  friend,  by 
the  signs  upon  your  face  or  because  you  tell  me  it  is 
so  ;  but  you  alone  can  be  immediately  aware  of  the 
pain  or  of  the  pleasure.  Twenty  j^ersons,  or  more, 
may  see  you  blush  or  turn  pale ;  but  no -one  but  you 
can  observe  the  fact  of  your  own  conscious  shame  or 
fear  or  ang"er.  What  you  think,  or  imagine,  or  remem- 
ber, you  may  commit  to  speech  or  to  paper,  and  thus 
inform  others  about  the  character  of  your  states,  of 
co7isciousness  ;  but  you  alone  of  all  the  people  in  the 
world  stand  face  to  face  with  them,  as  states  of  your 
consciousness. 

Self-consciousness  or  Introspection — The  immediate 
awareness  of  one's  own  states  of  mind  is  called  "  self- 
consciousness."  And  no  other  way  of  direct  observa- 
tion is  possible  for  those  facts  with  which  psychol- 
ogy deals.  It  has  already  been  seen  (p.  Gf.)  that  these 
facts  are  facts  of  consciousness ;  subjective  facts 
they  were  also  called,  because  they  had  to  be  thought 


THE  :\rr\T)  and  it>;  aottvtties  9 

of  as  having-  one  subject  for  tlieni  all,  the  so-called 
"self,"  or  mind.  And  it  now  appears  that  the  only 
method  of  direct  observation  is  similar  to  the  facts 
to  be  observed  ;  the  method  also  may  then  be  called 
subjective.  In  plain  lang-uage,  this  only  means  that 
every  person  knows  his  own  thoughts,  feelings, 
plans,  etc.,  as  his  own,  and  in  an  immediate  manner, 
which  is  impossible  for  any  one  else  than  the  subject 
of  those  same  tlioughts,  feelings,  and  i^lans.  Or 
because  this  seems  like  the  work  of  a  sort  of  eye  that 
looks  directly  in  upon  the  conscious  life,  while  all 
other  eyes  only  see  the  signs  of  that  life,  this  kind 
of  observation  is  sometimes  called  "  introspection  " 
("  looking  inward  '"). 

Sources  of  Psycholog^y — To  explain  the  facts  of 
consciousness  is  a  very  different  thing  from  simply 
to  observe  them.  And,  indeed,  most  people  give  so 
very  little  attention  to  their  own  mental  life  that 
they  can  scarcely  describe  clearly  what  its  most 
obvious  facts  are.  This  peculiar  kind  of  ()l)serva- 
tion,  which  the  science  of  psychology  requires,  like 
every  other  kind  of  observation,  is  also  a  matter 
that  may  be  cultivated,  and  in  which  different  peo- 
ple have  very  different  natural  gilts.  Nothing  is 
more  common  than  the  experience  which  makes  us 
aware  how  much  better  some  understand  their  own 
thoughts,  memories,  and  plans  than  otliers  do.  Tliis 
difference  is  certainly  not  wliolly  duo  to  a  lack  of 
power  in  certain  minds  to  us(!  laiigiiJige  well;  it  is 
also  partly  due  to  dcificiency  and  lark  of  pnuttice  in 
self-observation.     ^loreover,  i)ractico  makes  i)erfect 


10  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

here  as  everywhere  else.  We  all  may  g'roAV  in  self- 
knowledge  as  m  every  other  form  of  kuowleclg-e. 
Thus  it  comes  about  that  certain  individuals  ac- 
quire rare  skill  in  observing,  describing-,  and  untan- 
gling all  the  intricacies  of  their  own  conscious  states. 
They,  too,  thus  become  fit  to  describe  and  explain 
the  conscious  states  of  others  far  better  than  can  the 
subjects  of  these  states  themselves. 

The  next  thing  to  be  noticed  is  that  all  men  con- 
stantly and  inevitably  give  external  signs  as  to  what 
their  own  states  of  consciousness  are.  Only  in  this 
way  can  men  communicate  with  each  other  at  all. 
Everything-  that  any  man  does  or  says  may  thus  be- 
come a  means  by  which  others  know,  or  guess,  his 
facts  of  consciousness,  the  character  of  the  flow  of 
his  mental  life.  Now,  all  these  manifestations  of 
consciousness  become  sources  for  the  student  of  psy- 
chology. For,  we  repeat,  all  that  any  man  does  and 
says  may  be  considered  as  a  sign  of  his  mental  life. 
Psychology,  then,  studies  the  facts  of  infant  and 
child  life,  and  even  of  the  life  of  the  lower  animals. 
It  observes  the  behavior  of  idiots  and  of  insane 
persons,  of  criminals  and  of  persons  in  natural  or 
hypnotic  sleep  ;  just  as  the  physiologist  learns  about 
the  behavior  of  the  organs  of  the  human  body  by 
studying  them  when  they  are  acting  in  an  unusual 
or  diseased  way.  All  literature,  too,  is  of  course 
the  expression  of  human  thought  and  feeling.  And 
so  the  student  of  psychology  learns  much  from  ob- 
serving the  pictures  of  life  which  great  writers  of 
dramas  and  novels — like  the  "Antigone"  of  Sophocles, 


THE   MIND   AND   ITS   ACTIVITIES  11 

or  the  "  Hamlet  "  of  Shakespeare,  or  George  Eliot's 
"  Adam  Bede  " — have  drawn.  Some  biographies  also 
afford  valuable  sources  of  psychological  science. 

Experiment  in  Psychology.— Some  of  the  facts  which 
psychology  studies  can  be  subjected  to  experiment; 
l)y  this  it  is  meant  that  they  can  be  produced  at  will, 
and  in  such  way  as  the  more  easily  and  carefully  to 
observe  and  minutely  to  explain  them.  Among  these 
experiments  a  great  many  can  be  performed  by  any 
one  upon  himself.  Thus  any  one  is  able,  not  only  to 
acquire  the  habit  of  observing  his  own  mental  life  as 
it  flows  on  spontaneously,  but  also  to  direct  its  flow 
in  certain  channels  for  the  express  purpose  of  observ- 
ing the  conditions  that  govern  it.  For  example,  one 
can  close  one's  eyes  and  see  whether  one  can,  by  Avill- 
ing  it  to  be  so,  make  a  colored  cross  or  circle  appear 
before  one.  Or  we  can  assist  each  other  in  experi- 
menting to  see,  for  instance,  how  far  apart  the 
points  of  a  pair  of  dividers  must  be  in  order  to  be 
distinguished  as  two,  when  we  are  blindfolded,  on 
the  different  areas  of  the  skin.  Other  experiments 
require  very  elaborate  apparatus,  such  as  will  meas- 
ure time  to  the  one-thousandth  of  a  second.  Hence 
psychological  laboratories  are  being  fonmh^l,  of 
which  there  are  already  twenty  or  more  in  (his 
country. 

Yet,  again,  tlu!  student  of  jisycliology,  li.v   t.iking 
the  simpler  movable  pieces  of  ai)paratiis  around  with 
him,  may  experiment  upcm  a   huge   nninlMiof  pri- 
sons; or  by  sending  out  circulars  willi   «|iHsti(iiis  lo 
be  answered  (although  this  latter  modf  ..f  iiMiniry 


12  RIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

gives  very  doubtful  results,  siuce  it  is  impossible 
carefully  to  guard  the  conditions  of  such  experi- 
ments). A  g-ood  example  of  this  sort  of  experimen- 
tal study  of  the  mind  is  to  be  found  in  the  work,  dur- 
ing- the  past  year,  of  a  Yale  graduate  student,  who, 
with  simple  but  skilfully  devised  apparatus,  tested 
thirteen  hundred  school-children  to  see  how  their 
powers  of  discrimination  developed  in  dependence 
on  age  and  height  and  sex,  etc.:  and  how  the  esti- 
mate of  their  teachers  respecting  their  brightness  or 
dulness  corresponded  with  his  results. 

But,  plainly,  much  of  our  mental  life  cannot  be 
subjected  to  experiments  in  this  way,  or,  indeed,  in 
any  manageable  way.  How,  for  example,  should 
one  test,  with  laboratory  methods  and  apparatus,  the 
higher  and  more  complex  feelings  and  choices,  the 
thoughts  about  duty  and  God,  and  the  elaborate 
plans  we  form,  for  to-morrow  or  for  our  entire  lives  ? 

Method  in  Psychology. — After  the  facts  and  simpler 
conditions  of  mental  life  are  ascertained  in  the  ways 
that  have  been  described,  the  method  of  building  up 
the  science  of  psychology  does  not  differ  greatly 
from  that  which  the  other  sciences  employ.  That  is, 
we  use  "  hypotheses,"  or  shrewd  guesses  at  the  most 
probable  explanations ;  we  derive  "  laws  "  from  the 
careful  study  of  great  numbers  of  facts,  and  then  test 
the  laws  by  experiment,  or  by  trying  to  explain  by 
them  newly  discovered  facts  ;  and  so  gradually  we 
arrive  at  a  more  complete  picture  of  the  whole  de- 
velopment of  mental  life  and  of  the  conditions  on 
which  it  depends. 


THE   MIND   AND    ITS    ACTIVITIES  13 

The  Faculties  of  the  Mind.— When  one  beg-ius  to 
consider  the  diflereut  facts  of  mental  life  in  a  way 
seriously  to  stud}^  tliem,  one  is  at  once  impressed 
with  their  great  variety.  One  class  of  these  facts, 
however,  separates  itself  pretty  readily  from  the 
others  ;  and  this  is  the  knowledge  obtained  throngh 
the  senses.  What  belongs  to  all  such  knowledge  in 
common  seems  to  be  just  this,  that  it  all  co//ies 
through  the  senses.  But  how  really  dili'erent  are  the 
impressions  of  the  difierent  senses !  And  what  real 
likeness  has  the  blueness  of  the  sky  to  the  smell 
of  a  rose ;  or  the  redness  of  the  rose,  even,  to  its 
own  soft,  velvety  feel  and  delicate  perfume?  And 
in  the  case  of  the  same  sense :  how  is  the  smell  of 
the  rose  like  that  of  asafretida,  except  that  both 
impressions  are  received  by  sniffing  in  the  air 
through  the  nose  % 

Now,  however,  let  it  be  considered  that  all  these 
impressions  of  sense  cover  only  one  part  of  (uir 
mental  life.  There  are  our  thoughts,  which  ai(> 
alxnd  so  many  different  things,  partly  about  imjjrcs- 
sions  of  sense  and  partly  of  quite  anotlu'r  order. 
There  are  also  our  feelings,  which  are  not  all  of  the 
bodily  kind,  or  such  as  go  Avitli  tlni  ust^  of  the 
senses  ;  but  are  some  of  thcjii  of  an  idnal  order,  su(th 
as  occur  when  we  are  reading  admiringly  of  tlio 
heroes  of  the  past,  or  are  grieving  over  lost  <)|)|>or- 
tunities,  or  are  craving  lovingly  tin'  fri<'n(lly  |Ufs- 
once  of  some  jd)S(3]it  (M)nipani<»ii,  <»r  ai'c  lliinking  of 
tin;  lic.L\<iil\'  joy  of  sonic-  oni'  .ib-cady  for<'Vir  de- 
parted.    How  indescribably    manifold   arc  our  I'cd- 


14  PRIMER   OB^   PSYCFIOLOGY 

ings  !  It  is  just  this,  in  part,  wliicli  makes  tliem  so 
hard  to  tell  to  others. 

The  word  "  faculties  "  is  commonly  used  for  the 
principal  modes  of  the  activity  of  the  mind  as  they 
are  experienced  in  adult  life.  Such  are,  for  example, 
perception,  memory,  imagination,  thought,  and  the 
like.  But  these  are  all  complex  and  highly  devel- 
oped forms  of  the  same  mental  life  ;  and,  as  we  shall 
see,  thej'-  all  involve  one  another  in  a  complicated 
way.  Thus  we  cannot  have  perception  without  pre- 
viously having  developed  and  actually  using  at  the 
time  the  powers  of  memory,  imagination,  and  even 
thought.  Again,  we  cannot  think  without  remem- 
bering while  we  think  ;  neither  can  we  plan  or  choose 
without  both  thinking  and  remembering'.  And  yet 
in  all  these  faculties,  so  called,  the  mind  is  one ;  it 
is  /  that  perceive,  remember,  imagine,  think,  feel, 
and  choose.  So  that  hy  ^''faculties"  ice  understand 
nothing  hut  the  various  complex  and  develojyed  modes 
of  the  mind's  life. 

However,  if  we  consider  any  one  of  our  mental 
states,  our  particular  modes  of  being  conscious,  we 
shall  find  that  it  always  presents  three  sides  or 
"  aspects,"  as  it  were.  In  other  words,  we  alwaj'S  find 
ourselves  perceiving  or  thinking  ("  intelligizing ") 
about  something,  feeling  somehow,  and  doing  some- 
what. It  may  be  said,  then,  that  "  intelligizing," 
feeling,  and  willing  are  the  three  elementary  forms  of 
all  mental  life.  Yet  here,  again,  it  is  we  that  exist, 
alwa3'S  as  in  some  state  of  existence,  with  these  three 
aspects  in  which  our  state  may  be  regarded.     And 


THE   MIND   AXD   ITS    ACTIVITIES  15 

sometimes,  as  everybody  knows,  the  intellectual 
aspect  is  more  i^rominent,  sometimes  the  feeling- 
aspect,  sometimes  the  aspect  of  willing-.  It  is  this 
Avhich  is  properly  meant  when  Intellect,  Feeling,  and 
Will  are  s'poken  of  as  the  three  "  Faculties  "  of  the 
Mind. 

Benefits  of  Psychology — AVith  persons  who  have  any 
intelligent  views  about  the  matter,  it  is  needless  to 
argue  the  benefits  of  a  scientific  study  of  the  human 
mind.  Only  with  the  aid  of  psychology  can  one  to 
the  fullest  possible  extent  reaj)  the  benefits  of  the 
study  of  other  forms  of  science.  Language  cannot 
be  understood,  literature  cannot  be  appreciated,  read, 
and  interpreted,  art  cannot  bo  profoundly  compre- 
hended, and  even  the  natural  sciences  cannot  have 
their  fall  import  revealed,  without  a  knowledge  of 
the  mind  of  man.  And,  indeed,  how  could  this  be 
otherwise,  since  all  science  itself  is  only  the  product 
of  the  human  mind  ? 

The  practical  benefits  of  psychology  in  influencing- 
the  science  and  art  of  education,  the  management  of 
child-life,  the  instruction  of  idiots,  the  improvement 
of  the  vicious,  criminal,  and  insane,  are  becoming 
more  clearly  recognized  with  every  year  of  its  pres- 
ent rapid  advances. 


CHAPTEE  II 

CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  ATTENTION 

In  defiuing-  psycliolog-y  (p.  7)  it  was  said  that  it 
is  "the  science  of  the  facts  or  states  of  conscious- 
ness as  such."  And  it  had  previously  been  said 
that  the  word  "  consciousness  "  may  be  used  so  as  to 
cover  all  the  different  kinds  of  facts  which  belong 
to  the  mental  life — at  least,  so  far  as  it  is  an  object 
of  observation  and  study.  Still  later  we  spoke  of 
self-consciousness,  or  the  attentive  consideration  of 
our  own  conscious  states,  as  a  mode  of  observation 
that  must  be  employed  to  reach  the  facts  which  psy- 
chology investigates.  But  now  the  question  may 
properly  be  asked:  What  is  meant  by  the  very 
words,  "  consciousness,"  "  self-consciousness,"  and 
"  attention  "  ?  A  brief  answer  to  this  question  will 
occupy  us  in  the  present  chapter. 

Meaning  of  the  Term  Consciousness Only  a  mo- 
ment's thought  is  necessary  to  make  it  clear  that,  if 
the  word  "  consciousness  "  be  used  to  signify  Avhat 
is  common  to  all  the  facts  of  mental  life,  and  so  to 
define  psychology,  this  use  of  the  word  itself  cannot 
be  defined.  This  is  true,  for  the  very  good  reason 
that  no  more  general  terms  exist  by  which  to  define 
this  one.  Such  a  result  is  no  fault  of  the  language 
which  the  science  of  mental  life  employs.     For  all 


CONSCIOUSNESS   AND   ATTENTION  17 

definitions  have  to  go  back  to  terms  that  are  too 
general  and  simple  in  contents  to  be  themselves 
defined.  "What  it  is  to  be  conscions  can  be  so  de- 
scribed, however,  as  to  make  it  perfectly  clear  to 
every  one  who  will  appeal  to  his  own  experience. 
As  one  sinks  gradually  down  into  sleep,  one  becomes 
less  and  less  conscious ;  as  one  wakes  up  gradually 
from  sleep,  one  becomes  more  and  more  conscious. 
If  one  dreams  in  sleej?,  then  one's  dream  is  a  form  of 
consciousness ;  but  if  one  ever  sinks  into  perfectly 
dreamless  sleep,  then  one  becomes  unconscious. 
When  a  man  receives  a  severe  blow  upon  the  head, 
or  is  badly  choked,  he  becomes  unconscious.  When 
he  "  comes  to,"  he  becomes  conscious  again ;  it  is 
consciousness  "  to  "  which  he  comes,  as  we  figura- 
tively say.  When  one  is  very  much  alive  mentally 
— "wide-awake  "  and  in  the  highest  use  of  one's  pow- 
ers, as  is  sometimes  said — then  one  is  highly  con- 
scious. That  loluch  rises  and  falls  thus,  that  U'hich 
is  partially  lost  in  almost  dreamless  sleep  and  wholly 
lost  in  sioooning  "  quite  away^'  that  is  consciousness. 
We  see  then,  again,  that  this  use  of  the  word  makes 
it  a  term  for  any  and  every  fact  of  mental  life,  as 
such — as  mere  fact  of  mental  life. 

State  of  Consciousness. — AVc  must  also  ai)poal  to  ex- 
perience to  make  clear  what  is  meant  b\-  a  "  state  of 
consciousness."  Actually,  therci  is  no  |i;iii  of  tin! 
mental  life  that  can  l)e  se[)arat('t|  iVoni  I  lie  rest,  and 
have  an  existence  apart,  as  it  were;  or  lli.it  can  bo 
made  the  subj(ict  of  investigation,  :is  llms  s('|)ajat(!d, 
even  by  ourselves,  whoso  state  it  is.  The  thoughts, 
2 


18  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

feelings,  and  purposes  flow  on  in  something  like  a 
continuous  stream.  This  is  why  the  mental  life 
is  sometimes  called  "a  stream  of  consciousness." 
If  the  attempt  is  made  carefully  to  observe  any  of 
the  particular  thoughts  or  feelings,  then  this  very 
attempt  results  in  changing  the  character  of  these 
thoughts  and  feelings ;  and  at  once  a  new  and  dif- 
ferent state  takes  the  place  of  the  old.  Still  Ave 
know  that  we  can  by  our  oAvn  activity  consider  a 
portion  of  our  experience  as  though  it  were  separ- 
able from  the  rest ;  Ave  can  note  its  characteristics, 
and  observe  its  relations  to  the  rest  of  the  mental 
life.  Thus,  for  example,  I  can  know  that  a  moment 
ago  my  tooth  Avas  aching  horribly  ;  that  now  the  pain 
is  less  intense ;  and,  presently,  that  it  has  stopped, 
and  that  I  am  looking  out  of  the  windoAv  at  the  pass- 
ers-by, or  thinking  of  my  neglected  work,  or  jjlan- 
ning  to  start  on  a  journey  to-morrow. 

By  a  "  state  of  consciousness,"  then,  Ave  mean  such 
a  portion  of  the  actual  conscious  life  as  ^ce  can,  hy  our 
own  co7iscious  act  of  discrimination,  consider  as  one, 
hoth  with  respect  to  what  it  is,  and  also  loith  i^espect  to 
its  relation  to  other  states  of  the  same  mental  life. 

Field  of  Consciousness. — Other  terms  may  be  sug- 
gested to  slioAv  the  different  respects  in  Avliich  the 
different  states  of  -consciousness  A'ary,  in  a  more  or 
less  figurative  Avay.  Among  such  terms  is  the  Avord 
"  field."  If  Ave  consider  attentively  any  one  state 
of  mental  life,  and  compare  it  with  others  which  are 
very  greatly  unlike  it,  Ave  shall  see  Avhat  this  figure 
of  speech  reall}'  means.     Sometimes  the  mental  life 


COXSCIOUSXKSS    AXD    ATTEXTIOX  19 

has  a  miicli  greater  ricliness  or  variety  than  at  other 
times.  For  example,  at  one  moment  I  may  be  "  all 
occupied  "  in  one  thing  for  a  considerable  time ;  "  ab- 
sorbed in"  some  one  idea,  or  "  overwhelmed"  with 
some  pain,  or  "  taken  up  "  witli  some  joy.  At  another 
time  an  unusual  variety  of  objects  seems  to  be  so 
rapidly  noted  and  compared,  that  the  total  im- 
pression of  their  likeness  and  unlikeness  constitutes 
one  state  of  varied  observation.  Such  a  "field  of 
consciousness "  might  be  said  to  have  a  greater 
extent,  or  wider  circuit,  than  others.  This  is, 
however,  a  matter  of  degrees ;  for — as  will  be  seen 
later  on — all  mental  states  are  complex  to  a  greater 
or  less  degree.  Again,  and  especially  if  we  are  in  a 
condition  of  strong  feeling,  the  intensity,  or  amount 
of  our  selves,  of  our  actual  mental  life,  entering  into 
the  i:)articular  state  is  much  increased.  Thus  states 
of  predominating  pain  are  more  or  less  intense  ; 
and  even  our  thinking  processes  and  activities  of 
will  seem  much  more  vigorous,  as  it  were,  at  some 
times  than  at  others.  The  siyeed,  too,  Avith  which  the') 
different  states  follow  each  other  varies  greatly.  AVe 
seem  to  get  over  more  ground  in  thought,  or  live 
through  more  feeling,  or  do  more  planning,  in  some 
rare  moments  of  our  lives  than  in  the  whole  of  ordi- 
nary hourrt.  And,  finally,  the  character  of  tin*  diilcr- 
ent  fields  of  consciousness  varies  greatly.  Some  of 
our  states  are  chiefly  states  of  knowledge,  othcM-s  of 
feeling,  others  of  willing.  And  in  each  ol"  these  (lireo 
classes  wo  recognize  distinctions  wliich  h'Mil  us  to 
speak  of  some  of  them  as  nobler  or  higher  than  others. 


20  PRI3IER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

It  appears,  then,  that  the  fields  of  consciousness  dif- 
fer among  themselves  in  resided  of  (1)  extent,  (2)  inten- 
sity,  (3)  S2)eed,  and  (4)  specific  quality  or  character. 

Extent  of  Consciousness — The  number  of  impres- 
sions which  can  be  "  g-rasped  together  "  and  united 
by  the  mind  into  one  fiekl  of  consciousness  varies, 
of  course,  for  different  individuals,  with  different 
conditions  of  body  and  mind,  and  with  different  de- 
g-rees  of  the  same  individual's  development.  The 
story  is  told  of  one  poor  stupid  soldier,  for  example, 
who  never  could  be  made  to  remember  to£rether 
more  than  two  of  the  three  substances  out  of  which 
gunpowder  is  made.  How  different  this  from  the 
mental  grasp  of  the  most  gifted  and  highly  trained 
minds ! 

This  is  one  of  the  questions  which  can  best  be 
subjected  to  experiment.  And  experiment  shows 
that  fifteen  or  sixteen  successive  impressions  of 
sound  can  be  so  grasped  together  as  to  allow  of 
distinguishing  the  field  of  consciousness  which 
unites  them  from  another  field  similarly  constituted. 
If  a  number  of  objects  are  briefly  disjjlayed  to  the. 
eye,  it  is  found  that  five  or  six  are  as  many  as  most 
persons  can  clearly  distinguish.  The  same  number 
of  impressions,  or  in  some  cases  even  eight,  when 
made  by  simultaneously  pressing  different  areas  of 
the  skin,  can  be  received  in  one  field  of  conscious- 
ness. 

Intensity  of  Consciousness — If  consciousness  is  con- 
ceived of  as  a  sort  of  mental  energy,  or  an  amount 
of   mental  life,    then   the   different   states   may   be 


C02fSCI0USNESS   A^D   ATTENTION  21 

sijoken  of  as  having  "  more  "  or  "  less  "  of  it.  Pains 
and  pleasures,  for  example,  are  commonly  regarded 
as  great,  or  moderate,  or  small.  So  men's  convic- 
tions, hopes,  fears,  and  expectations  may  be  consid- 
ered as  var^'ing  in  intensitj^  The  amount  of  effort 
which  is  put  forth  in  some  deeds  of  will  appears  far 
greater  than  that  put  forth  in  other  deeds  of  will. 
And  even  different  ideas  (though  this  has  been  dis- 
puted) plainly  vary  in  vividness. 

Speed  of  Consciousness. — Experiment  has  clearly 
shown — what  observation  of  our  ordinary  experience 
suggests — that  it  takes  time  even  "  to  come  to  con- 
sciousness," as  it  is  customar\'  to  say.  There  is 
probably  a  certain  amount  of  time  which  is  most 
favorable  for  every  person  to  reach  the  highest 
stage  of  the  activity  of  the  mind;  and  for  some 
persons  this  time  is  markedly  shorter  than  for 
others.  This  period  is  increased  when  the  com- 
plexity of  the  mental  acts  to  be  performed  is  in- 
creased. For  example,  it  Avill  take  the  average  per- 
son from  one-tenth  to  two-tenthsof  a  second,  after  an 
impression  has  been  received  upon  the  eye,  to  touch 
a  key  connected  with  an  electrical  current  and  so 
record  the  fact  of  the  impression  having  been  re- 
ceived. But  if  it  is  required  to  be  conscious, 
whether  the  impression  is  that  of  red,  or  of  blue,  or 
of  green,  the  time  required  may  bo  twice  as  long. 
About  three-quarters  of  a  second  is  with  most  per- 
sons the  time  for  "making  up  one's  mind"  most 
accurately  in  a  not  too  complex  case  of  judgment. 

The  rate  at  which  the  discuruibly  different  states 


22  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

of  consciousness  follow  each  other  also  differs 
greatly  in  different  individuals  and  at  different 
times.  Some  are  constitutionally  slow,  others  rapid 
in  mental  movement ;  but  no  one  can  be  more  than 
about  so  slow  or  about  so  fast. 

Character  of  Consciousness. — The  differences  in  the 
complex  character  of  our  different  conscious  states 
have  already  been  referred  to  sufficiently.  It  is 
chiefly  this  which  makes  us  speak  of  them  as  really 
di^'erent  states  ;  as,  for  example,  of  perception,  mem- 
ory, imag-ination,  hope,  joy,  deliberation,  etc.;  or  of 
knowledge,  feeling-,  or  will. 

Conditions  of  Consciousness. — There  are  certain  phys- 
ical conditions  on  which  being  conscious  at  all  is 
known  to  depend,  and  which  also  determine  largely 
the  character,  intensity,  and  time-rate  of  conscious- 
ness. The  most  important  of  these  is  the  character 
of  the  blood  circulating  in  the  brain.  If  the  pure 
arterial  blood  is  shut  off  from  the  brain,  conscious- 
ness ceases.  If  only  impure  blood  is  brought  to  the 
brain,  then  consciousness  is  impaired  or  troubled  ; 
the  extent  of  the  mental  grasp  may  be  diminished 
and  its  intensity  and  speed  of  movement  lowered. 
There  are  also  reasons  for  supposing  that  all  con- 
sciousness implies  the  destructiou  of  the  tissue  of 
the  brain,  and  then  its  restoration  by  nourishment 
brought  to  it  in  the  blood.  And  the  more  intense 
the  activity  of  consciousness,  the  more  rapid  the  de- 
composition of  the  tissues  of  the  brain.  Intense 
emotions  are  especially  exhausting  to  the  brain ; 
and  "  whipping  up  "  the  train  of  ideas  to  a  more 


CONSCIOUSNESS   AND   ATTENTION  23 

rapid  than  tlicir  natural  pace  is  almost  equally  so. 
Surely  this  is  something-  which  we  Americans  need 
to  keep  constantly  in  mind.  "  Living-  fast "  is  no  un- 
meaning- figure  of  speech  here  ;  it  is  only  another 
name  for  letting  death  continually  get  the  start  of 
life. 

And  would  you  know  how  marvellously  compli- 
cated and  delicate  is  this  mechanism  of  the  brain,  on 
whose  integrity  and  continued  sound  working  all  the 
life  of  consciousness  depends  %  Why,  then,  believe 
me,  there  is  something  almost  incredible  about  this. 
All  the  stars  in  the  universe,  so  far  as  modern  astron- 
omy can  reveal  them,  are  few  in  number  compared 
with  the  nervous  elements  concerned  in  the  working 
of  a  single  brain !  And  as  to  the  delicacy  of  this  won- 
derful piece  of  api^aratus :  one  observer  claims  that 
the  passage  of  a  cloud  over  the  sun  will  change  the 
rhythm  in  breathing  and  the  pulse-rate  of  a  sleeping 
child  ;  and  if  we  expose  the  brain,  its  whole  bulk  can 
be  seen  to  swell  when  a  lamp  is  approached  to  the 
patient's  eyes.  The  incredible  delicacy  of  some  of 
the  senses  can  be  accounted  for  only  as  it  is  due  to 
the  delicacy  in  structure  of  the  brain. 

Attention What  is  called  "attention  "  is  tlie  jirin- 

cipal  mental  condition  which  determines  the  entire 
character  of  every  field  of  consciousness.  For  all 
our  conscioics  .stales  are  characterized  hy  some  degree  and 
kind  of  attention.  Even  our  "  iiuittention,"  so-called,  if 
there  is  any  consciousness  of  anything  Icl't,  is  really 
attention  to  something  else  tlian  that  to  \\  liidi,  or, 
in  some  less  degree,  than  that  in  whi(;li,  wc  ought  to 


24  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

be  attending"-  Tlie  idle  scliool-boy  is  not  now  at- 
tending- to  his  lessons,  because  lie  is  attending-  to 
something  outside  the  window,  or  to  his  plans  for 
trout-fishing  next  Saturdaj^  afternoon.  Even  when 
it  is  a  case  of  being  boxed  on  the  ears,  or  of  having 
fallen  down  and  bruised  our  shins,  we  recognize  the 
effect  upon  our  total  condition  of  consciousness  from 
the  attention  we  are  compelled  for  a  time  to  g-ive. 
This  is  what  is  meant  when  it  is  said  to  children  that 
are  crying  from  similar  pains  :  "  Do  not  mind  it  and 
it  will  not  hurt  you  so  much."  Indeed,  it  often  hap- 
pens that  they  themselves  become  so  much  interested 
in  their  own  crying  as  quite  to  forget  the  pains  which 
originally  caused  it.  And  every  skilful  nurse  or 
mother  knows  the  effect  of  drawing  off  the  attention 
and  fixing  it  upon  a  lump  of  sugar  or  upon  the 
promise  of  a  treat  to-morrow. 

Distribution  of  Attention — Now,  since  every  field  of 
consciousness  is  more  or  less  complex,  all  of  the  at- 
tention cannot  be  g-iven  at  the  same  time  to  any  one 
part  of  it,  or  to  any  one  object  of  the  several  which 
are  grasped  together  to  make  up  that  very  field. 
Moreover,  while  the  objects  remain  essentially  the 
same,  we  may  attend,  now  chiefly  to  one,  and  now  to 
another,  of  the  several  objects  in  the  same  field. 
And  still  further,  as  the  stream  of  consciousness 
flows  on,  and  one  state  succeeds  another,  attention 
may  become  fixed  upon  new  objects  of  sense  or  upon 
new  states  of  thought  and  feeling  of  our  ow^n.  This 
constant  variation  in  the  amounts  of  attention  given 
to  the  different  objects  in  each  state,  or  to  the  differ- 


CONSCIOUSlSrESS   AND   ATTENTION  25 

ent  states  considered  as  wholes,  is  called  the  "  dis- 
tribution of  attention." 

Rise  and  Fall  of  Attention. — But  the  total  amount 
of  attention  is  by  no  means  the  same  for  all  the  dif- 
ferent mental  states.  And  as  has  just  been  seen,  the 
amount  of  attention  "  fixed "  upon  any  one  thing 
constantl}^  varies.  Indeed,  it  is  not  possible  to  hold 
the  attention  at  a  perfectly  steady  strain  for  as  much 
as  a  miuute,  or  for  half  that  time.  All  attention  is 
more  or  less  inconstant ;  often  it  is  rhythmical,  ris- 
ing and  falling  off  with  considerable  regularity  of 
period. 

If,  for  example,  we  hold  a  ticking  watch  at  the 
right  distance  from  the  ear,  in  spite  of  all  our  efforts 
some  of  the  ticks  will  drop  out  of  consciousness. 
This  is  not  because  the  intensity  of  the  sound  actu- 
ally made  varies  so  much ;  it  is  rather  because  we 
become  relatively  inattentive  every  few  seconds.  If 
we  look  at  a  gray  disk  revolving,  it  will  appear  to 
be  now  somewhat  lighter  and  then  darker,  for  tho 
same  reason.  Some  experimenters  have  found  differ- 
ent periods  for  the  fluctuations  of  different  kinds  of 
sensation ;  for  instance,  3  to  3.4  seconds  for  sensations 
of  the  eyes,  and  3.5  to  4  seconds  for  those  of  the  car. 
Our  memory- images  oscillate  in  the  same  way;  and 
so,  apparently,  does  our  maximum  power  of  giving 
attention.  At  any  rate,  in  learning  anything  "  by 
heart,"  in  spite  of  our  best  endeavors,  wo  learn  best 
"  Ijy  s|)nrts,"  as  it  were. 

Conditions  of  Attention — Since  attention  is  the 
amount  of  mental  energy,  or  energy  of  consciousness, 


26  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

devoted  to  all,  or  to  each  one,  of  the  objects  in  the 
iield  of  consciousness,  the  condition  of  the  brain  is 
very  important  in  determining-  the  attention.  At- 
tention implies  ivork  heing  done  in  the  brain ;  and 
attention  is  itself  indispensable  to  all  mental  ivorJc. 
The  waste  of  the  brain's  tissue  has  been  found  to 
correspond  in  some  sort  to  the  amount  of  mental 
work  done  with  accomi^anying"  strain  of  attention. 
The  chang-e  in  the  character  of  our  breathing-  when 
we  are  very  attentive,  the  sigh  we  sometimes  give 
after  we  have  been  "  breathless  "  with  attention,  all 
point  to  the  exhaustion  of  the  nervous  centres.  A 
person  strictly  attending  to  any  object  will  some- 
times sweat  copiously  even  when  sitting  still  in  a 
cool  room.  Good  blood,  abundant  sleep,  and  a 
sound,  well -nourished  brain  are  particularly  re- 
quired by  those  who  wish  to  be  able  to  "  attend 
to  "  their  work,  whatever  it  may  be. 

Kinds  of  Attention — There  are  ordinarily  said  to 
be  two  principal  kinds  of  attention, — the  voluntary 
and  the  forced  or  involuntary.  In  somewhat  extreme 
cases  of  either  kind  this  distinction  is  not  difficult 
to  observe.  Sometimes  our  experience  is  that  of 
hemg  fo7'ced  or  comjielled  to  attend ;  and  this  hap- 
pens when  strong  sensations  and  highly  painful  or 
pleasurable  feelings  are  aroused  from  without  in  our 
own  consciousness.  Who  can  help  attending — one 
might  ask — to  the  noise  of  the  piano  that  goes  with 
a  crank,  or  to  the  pain  of  the  sting  from  a  bee  ?  And 
yet  "  absent-minded  "  people  have  been  known  to  be 
so  absorbed  in  attention  to  their  own  thoughts  as  to 


C0XSCI0U6XESS   AND   ATTENTION  27 

hold  a  hot  poker  in  their  hands  and  never  "  mind  " 
the  pain  of  burning-.  Sometimes,  however,  tee  choose 
to  attend  to  this  rather  than  to  any  other  thing* ;  we 
consciously  and  designedly  repel  solicitations  to  at- 
tend to  anything"  else ;  we  bring  our  mind  back 
again  and  again  from  its  Avanderings  and  deliber- 
atel}'  fix  it  upon  the  chosen  object. 

In  fact,  however,  this  important  distinction  turns 
out  to  be  one  wholly,  or  chiefly,  of  degrees.  Even 
in  yielding  attention,  Avhether  impulsively  or  more 
smoothly  and  quietly,  we  feel  that  we  are  doing 
something.  And  there  is  plainly  a  passive  side  to 
all  our  states,  even  when  w^e  are  most  "  free  "  in  de- 
termining to  what  our  attention  shall  be  given. 

Attention  and  Discrimination. — The  degree  of  atten- 
tion we  give,  whether  forced  or  voluntary,  has  much 
to  do  with  our  noticing  distinctions  ;  and,  indeed, 
with  the  very  existence  of  our  sensations  and  ideas 
in  their  varied  forms.  It  also  determines  largely 
how  we  shall  interpret  our  sensations.  Kepeated 
acts  of  attention  "  clear  up  "  any  object.  Thus  if  a 
disk,  having  on  it  differently  colored  spots  or  lines 
or  different  letters,  be  displayed  a  brief  time,  the 
utmost  attention  will  on  the  first  trial  enable  us  to 
discern  perhaps  only  some  three  or  four  of  these 
objects.  But  soon  by  repeated  acts  of  attention  a 
larger  number  of  the  objects  is  clearly  seen  after  the 
disk  has  been  displayed  for  the  same  length  of  time. 

AVhat  is  called  "expectant  attention"  has  also  a 
o-reat  influence  on  our  mental  states.  If  one  knows 
about  what  is  (JoIikj  to  he  seen,  or  heard,  or  felt,  one 


28  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

can  in  the  same  amount  of  time  actually  discern 
mucli  more  clearly  wliat  is  seen,  or  heard,  or  felt.  If 
I  have  expectant  attention  focused  to  hear  some 
sound,  then  I  am  ready  to  discriminate,  by  attention, 
whether  the  sound  is  a  or  a^,  or  whether  it  is  the 
sound  of  a  violin  or  of  a  cornet.  Expectation  will 
even  create  sensations ;  thus  in  the  laboratory  it  is 
easy  to  make  most  persons  feel  a  wire  to  be  warm, 
for  example,  when  its  temperature  is  not  actually 
raised,  if  only  they  are  deceived  into  thinhhig  that 
a  current  of  electricity  is  now  passing-  throug-h  the 
wire.  Many  illusions  are  explained  in  this  way; 
what  is  expected — especially  if  it  be  with  fear  or 
hope — that  is  likely  to  be  actually  experienced.  Al- 
most any  person  seems  to  be  the  approaching-  form 
of  our  friend,  if  we  are  looking-  for  him  with  expec- 
tant attention. 

Attention  and  Feeling — The  effect  of  the  feeling-s 
on  attention  is  one  of  the  most  familiar  of  all  experi- 
ences ;  it  is  also  one  of  the  utmost  practical  impor- 
tance. It  would  not  be  a  wholly  unmeaning  figure 
of  speech  if  it  were  to  be  said  that  the  different  ob- 
jects of  sense,  as  well  as  the  different  ideas,  are 
always  involved  in  a  sort  of  "  struggle  for  exist- 
ence." They  are  all  striving  together  for  the  mind's 
attention.  But  other  thing-s  being-  at  all  equal, 
those  get  the  attention,  and  so  survive  over  the 
others  in  this  struggle,  that  are  most  interesting. 
But  "  interest  "  itself  is  a  form  of  feeling-.  Any  form 
of  interest  will  serve  this  same  g-eneral  purjjose.  It 
may  be  that  the  thing  which  awakens  the  interest  is 


COJfSCIOUSXESS   AND   ATTENTION  29 

"  horrible,"  "  disgusting-,"  "  repulsive,"  or  that  it  is 
"pleasant,"  "agreeable,"  "attractive."  Thus  one 
sometimes  sees  groups  of  children  gazing  with  at- 
tention transfixed  upon  the  very  things  that  fill  them 
with  terror.  The  novel-reader  cannot  tear  herself 
away  from  the  dreadful  story.  More  than  half  the 
power  to  get  themselves  read,  which  the  details 
of  accident  and  crime  in  the  newspapers  possess, 
comes  from  this  psychological  principle.  Teachers 
know,  as  do  also  showmen  and  street-pedlers,  that  it 
is  necessary  to  excite  the  feeling  of  interest  in  order 
to  secure  attention.  In  some  cases  of  insanity  the 
patient  comes  so  under  the  power  of  some  su- 
premely interesting  idea  that  he  cannot  force  him- 
self away  from  it,  no  matter  how  painful  and  horrid 
the  idea  may  be. 

Conversely,  as  we  have  already  seen  (p.  24),  our 
feelings  themselves  depend  for  their  duration  and 
intensity  very  largely  on  the  way  we  attend  to  them. 
The  lessons  of  the  greatest  practical  importance, 
which  follow  from  this  relation  of  attention  to  feel- 
ing, are  almost  too  obvious  to  need  mention.  Noth- 
ing in  the  care  of  our  own  lives,  or  of  the  lives  of 
others,  requires  greater  study  than  how  to  enlist  the 
best  and  strongest  feelings  on  the  side  of  attention 
to  the  most  im])f)rtant  and  valuable  subjects. 

Attention  and  Will. — It  has  already  been  pointed  out 
that  attention  is  nev(!r  wholly  passive  ;  it  is  always, 
in  one  aspect,  a  form  of  our  own  doing.  It  is  there- 
fore always,  in  some  sort,  a  maiu'/rsfafion  of  vi'll, 
in  the  widest  meaning  of  this  word.      And  in  the 


30  PEIMEll    OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

form  of  the  most  truly  "  voluntary  "  attention,  it 
seems  to  be  one  and  the  same  thing-  with  what  we 
call  "will." 

Nature  of  Attention — We  are  now  in  position  bet- 
ter to  understand  what  is  meant  by  this  important 
word  "  attention."  Plainly,  it  is  not  to  be  thought  of 
as  some  one  faculty  that  can  be  separated  from  the 
others ;  much  less  as  a  sort  of  abstract  power  set 
apart  from  ourselves  as  alive  and  active.  It  is  rather 
a  most  general  form  of  all  our  mental  life.  /  attend 
to  everything  in  mind,  and  I  mind  everything  to  which 
I  attend.  In  other  words,  that  distribution  of  the 
amount  of  mental  energy  to  the  different  parts  and 
objects  in  my  field  of  consciousness,  which  is  partly, 
but  only  partly,  under  my  conscious  control,  and 
which  is  so  dependent  on  the  feeling  of  interest,  is 
attention  in  its  most  primary  form.  Only  if  this  be 
so  can  I  learn  to  choose,  within  limits,  what  I  will  mind, 
and  really  to  onind  that  to  which  I  choose  to  attend. 

Self-Consciousness. — It  ma}^  now  be  made  somewhat 
clearer  what  is  meant  by  "  self-consciousness  ;"  and 
what  is  the  difference  between  consciousness  and 
se^-consciousness.  The  former  word  has  already 
been  said  (p.  16f.)  to  stand  for  every  kind  of  men- 
tal state,  every  form  of  the  life  of  feeling,  knowing, 
and  willing,  as  distinguished  from  unconsciousness, 
which  is  just  the  absence,  or  ceasing  to  be,  of  every 
kind  of  feeling,  knowing,  and  willing.  But  it  has 
also  been  shown  (p.  18)  that  we  ourselves  know 
what  these  states,  these  feelings,  thoughts,  percep- 
tions, plans,  etc.,  actually  are,  only  as  we  are  conscious 


CONSCIOUSNESS   AND   ATTENTION  31 

ofihem.  That  is,  the  facts  which  psycholog-y  stud- 
ies are  all  facts  of  cousciousuess,  as  such.  But  they 
are  all  immediately  known  by  ourselves  only  as  we 
are  self-consciouH. 

It  appears  also  that  we  must  attend  in  order  to 
know  any  object  whatever  in  the  stream  of  con- 
sciousness. This  is  as  true  of  our  own  thoughts,  feel- 
ings, and  plans  as  it  is  of  trees  and  horses  and  flow- 
ers. But  sometimes  attention  is  directed  upon 
things  and  happenings  "outside  of"  our  mental 
life  ;  and  only  sometimes  is  it  much  directed  upon 
"  our  own  "  thoughts  and  feelings  and  plans.  And 
thus  the  distinction  arises  between  consciousness 
and  self-consciousness.  For  example,  sometimes 
I  am  watching  a  team  glassing,  or  looking  at  some- 
thing under  a  microscope,  or  viewing  the  trees  in  my 
garden,  or  studying  a  lesson,  or  observing  a  land- 
scape or  a  picture  ;  then  I  am  conscious — highly  so  ; 
I  certainl}"  am  not  half-conscious,  as  in  dreams,  or 
unconscious,  as  -in  a  fainting-fit.  But,  at  another 
time,  I  am  watching  just  as  carefully  my  own  sensa- 
tions, griefs,  joys,  or  ideas  and  plans  as  they  form 
themselves  and  come  and  go ;  then  I  am  self-con- 
scious—highly so. 

But  the  rest  of  this  subject  must  be  left  to  be  more 
fully  understood  later  on. 


CHAPTEK  III 

SENSATIONS 

The  states  of  consciousuess  plainly  depend  upon 
the  condition  and  action  of  certain  important  parts 
of  the  body,  and  upon  the  way  these  parts  are  re- 
lated to  external  things  and  to  the  forces  of  nature. 
For  example,  one  is  consciously  in  quite  a  different 
condition  when  one  is  in  a  dark  room,  or  with  one's 
eyes  closed,  from  that  which  one  experiences  in  the 
light  with  wide-open  eyes.  Consciousness  is  also 
greatly  modified  when  a  train  of  cars  rumbles  by,  a 
door  slams,  or  a  peal  of  thunder  occurs  ;  and  it  is 
modified  in  a  still  different  manner  when  a  load  is 
laid  upon  the  back,  an  insect  creeps  over  the  skin,  or 
a  hot  whiff'  of  air  from  the  furnace  strikes  us.  But  all 
such  forms  of  change  in  the  conscious  states  come, 
as  abundant  experience  proves,  through  the  action 
of  the  senses,  such  as  the  eyes,  the  ears,  and  the 
skin. 

Nature  of  Sensation. — It  can  never  be  told,  from  a 
direct  inspection  of  consciousness  alone,  what  a  sim- 
ple sensation  is.  This  is  true  for  the  very  good  reason 
that  no  one  ever  has  an  experience  of  simple  sensa- 
tions, as  such.  For  example,  consciousness  never 
consists  simply  of  the  feeling  of  blueness  or  redness, 
or  of  heat  or  cold,  or  of  sweetness  or  sourness.     But 


SENSATIONS  33 

I  may  see  some  object  that  is  blue  or  red ;  or  I  may 
touch  some  thing-  that  is  hot  or  cold  ;  or  I  may 
taste  some  substance  that  is  sweet  or  sour.  Yet  it 
has  already  been  said  (p.  7f.)  that  psycholog-y  stud- 
ies states  of  consciousness,  as  such.  The  sensa- 
tions, as  psj'chology  considers  them,  may  then  be 
defined  as  those  pecxdiar  modijications  of  consciousness 
which  are  experienced  in  the  use  of  the  organs  of  sense. 
And  how  modifications  of  consciousness  can  be  at 
the  same  time  qualities  of  objects,  so  that  we  can 
call  the  sk}^  blue,  the  iron  hot,  the  sugar  sweet,  it 
must  be  an  important  part  of  the  study  of  mental 
development  to  make  clear. 

Origin  of  Sensations. — Strictly  speaking-,  so  far  as 
psycholog-y  regards  them,  sensations  originate  in 
consciousness.  They  are — as  has  already  been  said 
— just  this :  peculiar  modifications  of  our  conscious 
mental  life.  But  ordinarily  they  do  not  arise  unless 
some  of  the  organs  of  sense  are  excited  by  certain 
of  those  manifold  forces  of  nature  which  are  adapted 
to  excite  them.  AYe  say  they  do  not  ordinarih/  ; 
for  sometimes  persons  see  sights,  hear  sounds, 
smell  odors,  and  feel  touches  that  are  not  caused 
by  any  excitement  of  the  external  eye,  or  ear,  or 
nose,  or  skin.  Sometimes,  also,  the  excitement  of 
memory  or  imag^iuation  becomes  so  intense  tliat  its 
ol^ject  is,  as  wo  say,  "  projected  into  space,"  and 
can  no  longer  be  distinguished  from  a  real  object  of 
sense.  But,  ordinarily,  sensations  of  light  and  color 
arise  when  tlie  light  reflected  from  colored  objects 
strikes  upon  the  eye  ;  sensations  of  sound,  when  the 
3 


34  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

soniid-waves  from  vibrating-  bodies  beat  ujioii  the 
ear  ;  sensations  of  smell,  when  the  particles  floating" 
off  from  smellable  substances  are  drawn  over  the 
skin  of  the  nose.  These  outside  means  of  exciting 
sensations  are  called  "  external  stimiili."  When 
sensations  are  excited  by  causes  operating  directly 
within  the  brain  they  are  said  to  be  due  to  "  internal 
stimuli." 

Classes  of  Sensations. — It  is  by  no  means  so  easy  as 
is  ordinarily  supposed  to  tell  how  many  distinct 
kinds  of  sensations  there  are,  and  to  assign  each  to 
the  right  class.  The  popular  classification  into  the 
five  senses  of  smell,  taste,  hearing,  sight,  and  touch  is 
plainly  inadequate.  For — to  give  instances :  what 
is  called  the  "taste  "  of  thing's  taken  into  the  mouth 
really  consists  largely  of  smell ;  what  is  called  the 
"  look  "  of  things  is  partly  touch  ;  and  what  is  called 
"  touch  "  is  always  a  compound  of  various  sensations. 
There  are  also  many  obscure  modifications  of  con- 
sciousness which  are  due  to  the  excitement  of  the 
mucous  membrane,  and  perhaps  of  the  muscles, 
inside  the  body ;  while  the  excitement  of  the  skin 
on  the  surface  of  the  body  gives  rise  to  several  dis- 
tinct kinds  of  sensations.  Even  within  the  limits  of 
what  is  styled  the  "  same  sense,"  there  seems  often 
to  be  little  real  likeness  among  the  different  modi- 
fications of  our  conscious  states.  Why  should  sour 
and  sweet,  for  example,  be  said  to  belong  to  the 
same  sense,  except  that  they  both  come  through  the 
tongue  ;  or  heat  and  cold,  except  that  both  come 
through  the  skin  ? 


SEXSATIOXS  85 

The  principle  ou  wliieh  the  popular  classilicatiou 
is  based  considers  simply  the  different  organs- 
nose,  tongue,  ear,  eye,  and  skin — through  whose  ex- 
citement the  sensations  are  produced.  Now,  if  we 
retain  this  principle  of  classification,  and  divide  the 
sensations  of  the  skin  into  the  two  great  unlike 
classes  which  this  organ  produces,  and  then  add  two 
other  important  kinds  which  recent  study  has  dis- 
covered, we  shall  have  the  following  list :  Sensations 
of  Siuell,  of  Taste,  of  Sound,  of  Light  and  Color,  of 
Pressure,  of  Temperature,  and  of  the  Muscles  and 
Joints.  Each  of  these  will  now  be  considered  very 
briefly. 

Sensations  of  Smell — These  sensations  are  pro- 
duced by  exciting  certain  nervous  structures  that  are 
situated  in  the  lining  of  the  upper  region  of  the 
cavity  of  the  nose.  The  stimulus  is  drawn  in  with 
the  current  of  air  (hence  the  intensity  of  smells  is 
increased  by  "  sniffing  ") ;  it  consists  of  extremely 
minute  particles  which  are  called  "  effluvia,"  and 
which  are  thrown  off  from  odorous  substances.  Long 
ago  it  was  noticed  that  very  small  bits  of  camphor 
on  the  surface  of  water  have  a  curious  rotary  motion  ; 
something  similar  has  now  been  observed  in  the  case 
of  several  hundred  smellable  substances.  Dogs  can- 
not "track"  game  if  ]i:ipor  is  tied  in  front  of  their 
nostrils. 

Chemists  do  n(jt  as  yet  know  mufli  about  tli(^ 
cliemical  causesof  the  diffevoiit  smells  occasional  liy 
different  substances.  And  no  means  of  classifying 
smells  exist  except  by  mentioning  the  names  of  the 


36  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

tilings  which  produce  them  :  as  the  "  smell  of  a 
rose,"  or  the  "  smell  of  snlphur  ; "  or  by  speaking  of 
the  invigorating  or  depressing  effect  they  have  upon 
us.  Smell  is  in  general  the  most  animal  and  the 
least  intellectual  of  all  the  sensations. 

Sensations  of  Taste. — It  is  the  tongue,  and  in  some 
cases  the  front  part  of  the  soft  palate,  by  whose 
activity  sensations  of  taste  are  occasioned.  Ordi- 
narily the  stimulus  is  applied  by  pressing  it  against 
the  nervous  structures  in  these  parts,  after  it  has 
been  dissolved  in  the  saliva  or  in  some  other  fluid. 
We  know  almost  nothing  about  those  qualities  in 
different  tastable  substances  which  fit  them  to  excite 
the  different  sensations  of  taste.  Among  the  princi- 
pal kinds  of  taste  are  the  sweet,  the  sour,  the  salt, 
the  bitter,  the  alkaline,  and  the  metallic.  Much  of 
the  "shading"  of  these  sensations  is  due  to  the 
smells  which  accompany  them ;  as,  for  example,  in 
the  so-called  "  taste  "  of  an  onion,  of  chocolate,  or  of 
the  different  kinds  of  fruit. 

Sensations  of  Sound. — These  sensations  are  usually 
occasioned  by  sound-waves  in  the  air  striking  upon 
the  drum  of  the  ear.  From  the  ear-drum  the  waves 
are  carried,  in  the  form  chiefly  of  vibrations  in  a 
chain  of  bones,  and  then  in  certain  fluids,  to  the 
peculiar  nervous  structures  arranged  in  the  "  inner 
ear."  But  not  a  few  sensations  of  sound  are  also  pro- 
duced by  changes  going  on  in  the  parts  of  the  body 
near  to  the  ear.  Such  sounds  are  called  "  entotic." 
Among  them  are  the  sound  of  the  beating  of  the 
heart,  of  the  murmur  in  the  lungs,  of  the  crackling 


SENSATIONS  37 

noise  caused  by  yawning-,  or  the  low  musical  tone 
that  can  be  heard  by  pressing  the  fingers  in  the  ears 
and  setting  the  muscles  of  the  jaws  vibrating  in- 
tensel\^ 

Kinds  of  Sounds — All  sounds  may  be  divided  into 
two  classes — Unies  (or  musical  sounds)  and  noises. 
These,  however,  are  generally  mixed  together  and 
pass  into  each  other.  For  few  tones  on  the  violin  are 
not  mixed  wdth  some  noise,  and  the  ax  "  rings  "  in  a 
semi-musical  way,  while  the  harshest  voice  has  a 
"  pitch  "  of  its  own.  If  soap-bubbles  of  hydrogen  are 
exploded,  or  stoppers  pulled  out  of  lead  pipes  of  dif- 
ferent lengths,  rapidly  enough,  musical  sounds  may 
be  produced.  It  is  the  rapidity  and  regularity  of  the 
recurring  vibrations  wliich  determine  the  musical 
character  of  sounds.  But  noises  are  produced  by 
vibrations  which  lack  this  periodic  character. 

Pitch  of  Tones — We  know  that  musical  sounds  are 
all  capable  of  being  arranged  in  a  sort  of  scale. 
Their  quality  is  such  that  some  of  them  seem  to  be — 
as  the  phrase  goes — "liighcr"  and  some  "lower" 
than  others.  The  ^??7rA  of  tones  depends  upon  the 
rapidity  of  the  vibrations  which  cause  them  ;  the 
higher  the  pitcli  the  more  ra[)id  the  vibrations.  If 
two  tones,  that  are  some  distance  apart,  are  sounded 
one  after  the  other,  then  the  car  will  enable  us  to 
jout  another  tone  in  between  thera,  as  it  wer«!.  This 
seems  due  to  an  immediate  power  of  tlic,  mind  to  dis- 
criminate differences  in  the  (|uality  of  tones.  Such 
l)ower  differs  greatly  in  dilVcrcnt  prisons;  l»ul  it 
much  exceeds,  in  most  cases,  the  power  of  the  per- 


136540 


38  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

son  to  produce  with  the  voice  the  same  shading  in 
quality.  Even  Jenny  Lind  couki  scarcely  sing-  in 
quarter  tones ;  but  ordinary  and  untrained  musical 
ears  will  readily  distinguish  far  minuter  diiierences 
of  pitch  than  this.  For  example,  experiment  with 
a  considerable  number  of  children,  of  ages  from  six 
to  nineteen,  in  the  public  schools  of  New  Haven, 
showed  that  their  power  to  make  distinctions  in 
l^itch  varied  from  12.3  to  2.4  thirty-seconds  of  a 
tone. 

By  the  titn'bre  of  tones  is  understood  that  compound 
quality  which  depends  upon  the  number,  relative 
strength,  and  pitch  of  the  simple  tones  which  fuse 
together  in  the  compound  tone.  The  musical  sounds 
of  ordinary  experience  are  all  compound.  It  is  by 
dilference  in  timbre  that  any  note,  when  sounded  on 
a  violin,  is  distinguished  from  the  same  note  when 
sounded  on  a  piano,  or  when  sung  by  different 
voices. 

Noises,  apart  from  the  tones  which  blend  with 
them,  have  neither  pitch  nor  timbre ;  they  are 
divided  into  "  crashing,"  "  crackling,"  "  hissing," 
etc.,  and  cannot  be  arranged  in  a  scale  as  musical 
sounds  can. 

Sensations  of  Light  and  Color. — The  eye  is  the  organ 
of  these  sensations.  It  resembles  the  instrument 
which  the  photographer  uses — the  camera  ohscura ; 
but  it  is  tilled  with  fluids  instead  of  air ;  its  lens  ad- 
justs itself  instead  of  having  to  be  pulled  out  or 
pushed  in  by  the  operator;  and  the  screen  on  which 
the  "  image  "  is  made  is  a  wonderfully  delicate  mem- 


SEX>ATTOXS  39 

brane  containing  peculiar  nervous  structures.  The 
li£;ht,  even  after  being-  transmitted  through  the  ball 
of  the  eye  to  the  back  part  where  this  screen  (the 
"  retina  ")  is  placed,  is  not  the  immediate  stimulus  of 
the  nervous  part  of  the  organ.  The  light  only  stirs 
up  certain  chemical  changes  in  the  structure  of  the 
retina,  and  these  changes  produce  the  nervous  ex- 
citement. Nor  is  light  the  only  form  of  stimulus 
for  the  eye  ;  as  every  boy  knows  who  has  fallen  on 
the  back  of  his  head  while  learning  to  skate,  and 
as  all  may  experience  by  pressing  gently  on  the 
closed  eyeball,  and  so  exciting  what  are  called  phos- 
2yhenes,  or  disks  of  light  with  darkly  colored  edges. 
If  we  close  our  e3^es  in  the  darkest  room,  we  still  see 
light  and  colors— the  "  cn/'n-lighf  of  the  retina  as 
stimulated  by  the  blood  which  reaches  it. 

Kinds  of  Visual  Sensations —  All  sensations  i)ro- 
duced  by  stimulating  the  eye  are  either  of  Light  or 
of  Color.  That  is,  sensations  of  the  eye  may  vary  in 
intensitij  all  the  way  through  many  shades  of  gray 
from  deepest  black  to  purest  white  ;  or  they  may 
vary  in  those  peculiarities  of  quality  which  are 
brought  out  so  beautifully  l:)y  passing  the  light 
through  a  spectrum  and  thus  analyzing  it.  In  all 
ordinary  experiences,  sensations  of  color  and  light 
are  blended  together.  In  other  words,  every  color 
is  more  or  less  "bright  "  (or  distant  from  piire  white 
or  pure  black),  and  also  more  or  less  "  pure  "  (hav- 
ing a  distinct  "  color-tone  "  corresponding  to  some 
place  in  the  spectrum).  Tlio  old  division  into  seven 
colors  is  a  mere  conceit.     The;  numlx/r  of  colors  is 


40  PRIMEE   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

indefinitely  great,  and  differs  for  different  eyes,  as 
the  number  of  tones  does  for  different  ears. 

Mixing-  of  Colors — Tlie  quality  of  the  colors  of  the 
spectrum  depends  upon  the  number  of  the  oscilla- 
tions, in  a  second,  of  the  waves  of  light  which  iiro- 
duce  them — ranging-  all  the  way  from  about  four 
hundred  and  fift}^  billions  for  red  to  about  seven 
hundred  and  ninety  billions  for  violet.  But,  as  has 
already  been  said,  the  different  colors  "  shade  into  " 
each  other,  and  so  their  number  is  indefinite.  The 
peculiar  and  interesting  fact,  however,  is  that  by 
"  mixing  "  a  comparativel}^  small  number  of  selected 
colors,  all  these  different  shades  of  color  may  be 
produced.  Just  how  many  such  selected  colors  are 
necessary  (thAt  is,  the  number  of  '''fundamental "  col- 
ors) is  still  a  matter  of  dispute.  Helmholtz  would 
reduce  them  to  three — green,  red  or  carmine,  and 
blue  or  indigo-blue.  Others  think  that  six  such 
colors  are  required — namely,  three  pairs,  green  and 
red,  blue  and  yellow,  and  white  and  black.' 

Now,  the  difference  between  shades  of  color  and 
distinct  color-tones  is  not  perfectly  clear ;  neither 
are  the  limits  of  the  analysis  which  the  eye  can  per- 
form quite  fixed.  For  example,  almost  any  one  can 
tell  whether  a  color  is  hlue-green  or  ^elloiv-gveen, 
and  perhaps  guess  before  experience  that  if  yellow 
is  mixed  with  red,  the  red  turns  orange ;  but  few  or 
none    could    predict   that  a  little  of  black   and  of 

'  The  mixing  of  colors  can  be  very  satisfactorily  studied  by  use 
of  an  inexpensive  top  made  by  Milton  Bradley  of  Springfield, 
Mass.  ;  and  called  tlie  "  Bradley  Color-top." 


SENSATIONS  41 

orange  mino-led  with  white,  on  a  revolving'  disk,  will 
appear  seal-brown ;  and  all  are  astonished  when  they 
first  learn  that  purple  and  green,  or  orange  and  blue, 
or  violet  and  j^ellow-green,  will  produce  white.  Col- 
ors which  when  mixed  in  pairs  produce  white  are 
said  to  be  "  complementary  "  of  each  other.  Some 
'of  the  bearings  of  these  surprising  facts  will  appear 
later  on. 

Sensations  of  Pressure — All  the  areas  of  the  skin 
seem  to  ordinarj^  observation  alike  sensitive  to  press- 
ure, as  such,  although  hard  pressure  upon  them  all 
is  by  no  means  alike  painful.  But  recent  experi- 
ments have  shown  that  clear-cut  and  definite  sensa- 
tions of  pressure  are  only  occasioned  by  exciting 
certain  particular  minute  areas  of  the  skin.  These 
are  called  "  pressure-spots."  Such  spots  are  found 
all  over  the  body,  arranged  in  chains,  as  it  were ; 
they  have  different  degrees  of  sensitiveness,  and 
their  number  and  degree  of  sensitiveness  in  any  par- 
ticular large  area  determines  the  ability  to  discrim- 
inating touch  which  that  area  possesses. 

Sensations  of  Temperature It  is  one  of  the  most 

astonishing  discoveries  of  modern  psychology  that 
sensations  of  temperature  originate  through  the 
stimulation  of  minute  areas  of  the  skin,  and  that 
these  are  different  for  the  two  kinds  of  temperature, 
heat  and  cold.  There  are,  therefore,  "  heat-spots  " 
and  "  cold-spots,"  and  the  arrangement  of  these  is 
difi'erent  with  different  individuals  and  lor  dillri-ciit 
areas  of  the  IxKly.  Botli  kinds  of  iciiiiMintiiic- 
spots  have  als(j  dillcrciit  degrees  of  intensity  in  dif- 


42  rrj:\[KR  of  psychology 

ferent  localities.  The  same  object  feels  cool  to 
one  spot  and  ice-cold  to  anotiier.  The  temperature- 
spots  and  the  pressure-spots  do  not  seem  ever  to 
coincide. 

The  facts  with  regard  to  both  these  last  two 
classes  of  sensations  may  be  brought  out  by  study- 
ing the  effect  of  touching  different  areas  of  the  sldn 
with  a  fine  point  of  cork,  wood,  or  metal. 

Muscular  Sensations. — There  appear  to  be  sensory 
nerves  which  end  in  connection  with  the  muscles, 
and  which  are  excited  by  stretching  and  relaxing, 
by  straining,  and  pressing  iiard  upon  these  organs. 
These  muscular  sensations  can  be  brought  into 
consciousness  by  various  experiments.  If,  for  ex- 
ample, we  place  the  tip  of  a  linger  against  some  firm 
object  and  then  press  harder  and  harder,  we  not  only 
feel  the  skin-sensations  creep  up  the  arm,  and  the 
sensations  due  to  the  joints  being  squeezed  to- 
gether, but  also  certain  sensations  which  lie  deeper 
down  in  the  muscles.  Experiment  also  shows  that 
muscular  sensibility  is  sometimes  lost  when  that  of 
the  skin  is  retained ;  and  sensibility  of  the  skin  is 
sometimes  lost  when  that  of  the  muscles  is  re- 
tained. But,  although  the  two  are  not  the  same, 
sensations  of  the  skin  and  those  of  the  muscles  are 
constantly  blended  together  in  all  the  use  of  the 
bodily  members.  Probably  muscular  sensations 
differ  only  in  rather  a  gross  way  among  themselves ; 
so  that  they  serve  to  measure  relatively  large 
amounts  of  movement  only.  An  exception  must  be 
made,  however,  in  the  case  of  the  eye,  whose  mus- 


SENSATIONS  43 

cles  are  capable  of  being  trained  for  astonishingly 
fine  discriminations. 

Sensations  of  the  Joints. — The  pressure  and  rubbing- 
against  each  other  of  the  membranes  which  line 
the  joints  occasion  sensations  that  enable  us  to 
know  how  our  limbs  are  placed.  Thus  one  experi- 
menter found  that  a  man  with  his  hands  held  fast 
in  a  ijlaster  cast  could  perceive  a  very  small  bending 
of  the  first  joint  of  the  finger  when  done  by  some 
one  else.  And  if  one  notices  carefully,  one  can  dis- 
cover how  the  sense-consciousness  changes  with 
the  increase  or  the  lessening  of  pressure  at  the 
difl'erent  joints  of  the  body. 

Organic  Sensations. — There  are  a  great  many  obscure 
and  mixed  forms  of  sense-experience  that  originate 
in  the  condition  and  changes  of  the  heart,  of  the 
lungs,  the  intestines,  and  other  internal  organs. 
Other  sensations,  having  to  do  with  the  perception 
of  the  bodys  poise  and  balance,  have  been  traced 
to  certain  parts  of  the  ear  ;  for  everybody  knows 
how  important  the  feeling  of  the  i^osition  of  our 
own  head  is  for  our  judgment  about  the  position 
of  the  entire  body  and  of  all  things  in  relation 
to  it. 

In  brief,  we  see  that  our  sense-experience  is  much 
richer  and  more  varied  than  is  ordinarily  supposed. 
Indeed,  it  is  indefinitely  rich  and  varied,  dill'cicnt 
for  difrerent  individuals,  and  constantly  growing 
with  the  cultivated  use  of  t lie  organs  of  souse. 

Causes  of  Difference  in  Sensations. — 'J'liis  indefinite 
number  of   sensations   depeiuls  for   its   excitement 


44  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

upon  a  number  of  yaryiug-  causes.  Or,  in  other 
words,  the  qualities  of  the  sensations  vary  in  de- 
pendence upon  a  variety  of  chang-ing-  conditions. 
We  shall  now  consider  some  of  the  more  important 
of  these  conditions. 

Sensations  and  the  Organism. — It  has  been  seen 
(p.  36f.)  that,  ordinarily,  sensations  depend  upon  the 
excitement  of  the  organs  of  sense  by  some  form  of 
external  stimulus.  But  the  relations  between  the  par- 
ticular sensations  and  this  excitement  of  the  organ- 
ism are  very  complex.  Thus  the  sense-experience  of 
every  indimdual  is,  so  far  as  range  of  quality  in  each 
of  the  senses  is  concer7ied,  jjecidiar  to  that  individual. 
Among  the  varying-  conditions  of  the  sensations  are 
certain  natural  or  acquired  characteristics  of  the  or- 
g-ans.  Some  persons  have  "  no  ear  "  for  music,  as  is 
said ;  they  are  "  tone-deaf,"  and  cannot  distinguish 
semi-tones,  or  even  intervals  of  a  third.  But  others 
can  recognize  two  hundred  distinctions  of  pitch  be- 
tween successive  tones  in  some  parts  of  the  ordinary 
scale.  Some  can  hear  tones  (perhajjs  those  pro- 
duced by  sixteen  vibrations)  an  octave  lower  than 
others  ;  or  two  octaves  higher  than  the  ordinary  ear. 
Some  are  "  color-blind ;  "  and  such  unfortunates  have 
been  divided  into  two  groups,  the  "  red-blind  "  and 
the  "  violet-blind  "  or  "  green-blind."  An  indefinite 
number  of  partial  deficiencies  in  the  color-sense 
must  also  be  recognized.  Experiment  upon  1,300 
school-children  in  New  Haven  has  shown  that  the 
power  to  distinguish  fine  differences  in  shades  of 
red  grows,  in  general,  pretty  uniformly  with  the  age. 


SENSATIONS  45 

Similar  differences  in  smells,  tastes,  and  muscular 
and  skin  sensations  exist. 

The  part  of  tlie  organ  to  wliicli  the  stimulus  is 
applied  has  also  much  to  do  with  the  quality  of  the 
sensation  produced.  This  has  already  been  seen 
(p.  41f.)  to  be  true  of  the  heat-  and  cold-spots  and 
of  the  pressure-spots.  If  we  hold  our  eyes  steadily 
fixed  in  front  of  us,  and  move  a  red-covered  book 
into  the  centre  of  the  field  of  vision  and  then  out 
again,  we  shall  see  that  its  color  changes  greatly  ; 
this  is  because  the  image  made  by  the  same  object 
varies  in  color  as  its  position  is  moved  from  the 
centre  to  the  outside  of  the  retina.  One  observer 
found  that  red  could  thus  be  made  to  become  orange, 
then  violet,  and  then  blue.  The  different  parts  of 
the  retina  are  also  differently  sensitive  to  brightness 
or  amount  of  white  light. 

The  quality  of  the  sensation  also  depends  upon 
the  condition  of  the  organism  as  due  to  excitement 
that  has  just  previously  taken  place.  Smells  and 
tastes,  when  they  follow  each  other  closely,  influence 
each  other  greatly.  A  smooth  surface  feels  smoother 
wdieu  we  have  just  been  feeling  a  rough  surface  ;  a 
slightly  rough  surface  rougher,  when  we  come  to  it 
from  feeling  a  smooth  surface.  But  it  is  in  the  case 
of  sensations  of  the  eye  that  this  principle  is  most 
important.  If  we  look  intently  for  a  few  seconds  at 
any  Iniglit  or  colored  object  and  then  close  the  even, 
we  fijid  the  "  after-imago"  .of  this  ()l)j(!ct  going 
through  a  somewhat  regular  series  of  cliaiigeH  that 
fall  under  this  principle.     A  black  scpiare  on  a  wliito 


46  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

surface,  wlieii  the  eyes  are  turned  off  on  a  white 
background,  appears  bri«-ht  at  first  and  tlien  slowly 
fades  away.  Contrast  of  brightness  and  contrast  of 
color-tones  also  appear.  A  brig-ht  object  is  made 
brighter  by  darker  surroundings ;  while  on  a  red 
ground,  when  covered  with  tissue-paper,  it  appears 
green,  and  on  a  blue  ground  it  appears  yellow. 
Every  sensation  has  its  quality  relative  to  the  condition, 
just  past  and  now  present,  of  all  the  most  closely 
connected paHs  oftlie  orgamsm. 

Quality  of  Sensations  and  of  Stimulus. — It  has  al- 
ready been  shown  (p.  36f .)  that  the  way  our  conscious- 
ness is  affected  depends  upon  the  kinds  of  stimulus 
which  excite  the  organs  of  sense.  Sound-waves  are 
the  natural  excitement  for  the  ear ;  light-waves  for 
the  eyes  ;  effluvia  for  the  nose,  etc.  But  within  these 
classes  of  sensations  a  great  variety  of  qualities  is 
occasioned  by  differences  in  the  quality  of  the 
stimulus.  For  example,  further,  if  the  relation  be- 
tween the  number  of  vibrations  of  two  tones,  in  a 
second  of  time,  is  a  simple  one,  then  the  result  of 
sounding  them  together  is  a  pleasing  sensation  of 
"  harmony  ; "  if  not,  the  result  is  a  more  or  less  un- 
pleasant sensation  of  "  discord."  The  relation  1 :  2 
gives  the  Octave,  the  most  perfect  chord ;  1  :  3  gives 
the  Twelfth  ;  2  :  3,  the  Fifth,  and  so  on.  As  the  num- 
ber of  light-waves  increases,  the  quality  of  the  color- 
sensations  runs  through  all  the  sensations  of  the 
spectrum. 

Sensations  and  Time  and  Strength  of  Stimulus The 

time  during  which  the  stimulus  acts  has  much  to  do 


SENSATIONS  47 

■with  tlie  sensation  that  results.  It  takes  some  time 
to  start  off  the  senses  and  set  the  mind  to  acting-,  as 
it  were  ;  and  experiment  seems  to  show  that  the  dif- 
ferent color-tones  require  different  fractions  of  a 
second  to  attain  the  same  degree  of  clearness.  Ex- 
tending the  time  of  the  impression  will  to  some  ex- 
tent make  up  for  weakness  of  impression  ;  for  there 
is  a  sort  of  "  inertia  "  which  belongs  to  the  nervous 
apparatus. 

The  quality  of  the  sensations  also  varies  with  their 
strength  ;  for  a  strong  odor  of  musk  or  of  asafoetida 
is  by  no  means  precisely'  the  same  in  quality  as  a 
faint  odor  of  the  same  substances.  If  any  color  or 
any  shade  of  gray  is  brightened,  a  slightly  different 
color  is  made  of  it.  Intense  sweet  or  sour,  or  bitter 
or  salt,  is  a  different  thing  from  the  moderate  degree 
of  similar  tastes.  And  even  the  same  note  on  the 
piano,  when  violently  struck,  yields  a  different  qual- 
ity of  sound. 

Intensity  of  Sensations — And  yet  everybody  knows 
Avhat  a  difference  in  mere  degree  or  amount  of  essen- 
tially the  same  sensation  is ;  and  we  all  apply  the 
terms  "  strong,"  "  weak,"  and  "  moderate  '"  to  our  sen- 
sations Avith  a  perfect  confidence.  The  strange  tiling 
about  this  is,  however,  that  we  are  so  unable  directly 
to  compare  tlie  amounts  of  our  different  sensations. 
"Wlio  would  feel  sure  that  one  red  is  just  exactly  two 
and  one-tenth  times  brighter  than  aiiotlici-  of  th(^ 
same  shade;  oi-  who  would  make  oath  that  the  smell 
of  the  violet  in  his  hand  i-;  precisely  one-half  as 
strong  as  his  morning's  cup  of  colfoo  ?     Wo  are  very 


48  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

sensitive,  however,  to  minute  variations  in  the  degree 
of  the  same  kind  of  sensations,  when  they  occur  un- 
der certain  favorable  conditions ;  and  in  this  way  a 
law  for  measuring  the  relation  between  the  quanti- 
ties of  the  sensations  and  the  quantities  of  the  stim- 
ulus which  causes  them  has  been  investigated  with 
much  pains. 

Weber's  Law — The  law  to  which  reference  was  just 
made  bears  the  name  of  this  investigator ;  or  it  is 
sometimes  called  the  "Law  of  Fechner."  It  affirms 
that  the  amount  of  our  sensations  does  not  vary 
directly  as  the  amount  of  the  stimulus  which  occa- 
sions them  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  that  if  we  wish  to 
get  any  appreciable  increase  in  the  sensation,  we 
must  add  to  the  stimulus  which  jjroduced  the  sensa- 
tion a  constant  proportion  of  the  whole  amount  of 
stimulus.  For  example,  suppose  that  I  can  tell  the 
difference  between  the  pressure  of  30  ounces  and  31 
ounces ;  then,  if  I  change  to  jyounds  of  pressure,  it 
will  not  do  to  add  simply  one  ounce  in  order  to  pro- 
duce an  appreciable  change,  but  1  pound  must  be 
added — that  is,  the  same  proportion  of  pounds  as 
was  previously  necessary  of  ounces. 

Thousands  of  experiments  in  every  kind  of  sensa- 
tion, under  almost  all  conceivable  conditions,  have 
been  conducted  in  order  to  test  "  Weber's  law."  The 
result  has  been  to  show  that  it  is  only  ajiproxi- 
mateh^  true  for  some  of  the  sensations  ;  mostly  for 
those  of  moderate  intensity ;  and  that,  as  might  be 
expected,  a  vast  number  of  influences  determine  the 
estimate  lohich  every  man  puts  upon  the  amount  of  his 


SENSATIONS  49 

sensations  every  time  he  actually  estimates  any  of 
them. 

Limits  of  Sensation — Such  experiments  as  tlie  fore- 
going- have  made  clear  again  (see  p.  23)  the  mar- 
vellous delicacy  of  the  nervous  system.  What  is 
the  least  stimulus  that  will  cause  any  sensation  at 
all  ?  For  some  of  the  sensations,  under  the  most 
favorable  circumstances,  the  amount  is  almost  in- 
credibly small.  Thus  a  movement  of  the  eye  an- 
swering to  a  contraction  of  the  muscle  of  only  .OOOG 
of  a  millimetre  can  be  detected.  The  noise  made  by 
a  cork  ball,  weighing  1  milligram  and  falling  1  milli- 
metre, has  been  said  to  have  been  heard  ;  and  1  part 
of  mercaptan  to  50,000,000,000  parts  of  air  has  been 
smelled.  In  the  light  of  these  facts  many  of  the 
alleged  performances  of  mediums  and  hypnotic  per- 
sons seem  far  from  incredible. 

Complex  Sensations Already  it  has  been  repeat- 
edly assumed  that  all  our  sensations  are  compounds. 
The  cold  feeling  of  any  body  in  contact  with  the 
skin  results  from  the  "  fusion  "  of  the  effects  of  a 
great  many  "  cold-spots."  The  feeling  of  the  weight 
of  any  body  which  is  lifted  or  carried  results  from 
the  fusion  of  an  inddiuito  number  of  sensations  of 
skill,  muscles,  and  joints,  belonging  to  different 
areas  of  the  body.  Indeed,  when  we  lift  heavily,  wo 
feel  our  <nvn  changed  respiration,  tli('  i)aiitiiig 
breath,  the  heaving  chest,  the  inner  strain,  as  wrll 
as  the  squeezed  joints,  hard-pressed  skin,  and  i.tut 
muscles.  In  sight  we  also  sense  tli<'  ohjccts  \\  itii 
moving  eyes,  and  this  gives  us  a  variety  of  nicely 
4 


50  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

shaded  miiscnlar  sensations.  If  the  objects  are  very 
hirg-e,  or  are  themselves  in  motion,  then  we  have  to 
"  look  at  "  them  throug-h  the  muscles  of  the  head  as 
we  turn  it,  or  even  of  the  whole  triuik.  When  we 
smell  "  horrid  "  strong  smells  or  nasty  tastes,  we  gag- 
and  make  wry  faces,  and  thus  feel  the  substances  as 
much  as  we  smell  or  taste  them  ;  and  every  one 
knows  the  trick  of  "  rolling  a  sweet  morsel  "  under 
the  tongue,  which  not  only  presses  its  solution 
against  the  taste-bulbs,  but  increases  the  "  massive- 
ness  "  of  the  joleasure  by  bringing  in  another  sense. 

Local  Signs. — It  is  a  plausible  theory  then,  if  not 
an  established  fact,  that  all  the  various  compound 
sensations  which  arise  in  consciousness  may  differ 
in  the  complex  quality  of  their  mixture  ;  and  that 
this  complex  quality  depends  partly  at  least  upon 
the  areas  of  the  organism  that  are  excited  to  joroduce 
the  sensations.  Hence  the  complex  sensations  may 
serve  as  "signs  "to  the  mind  by  which  it  judges 
where  they  are  located.  The  name  "  local  signs  "  is 
then  a  very  convenient  figure  of  speech.  Of  course, 
it  must  not  be  understood  by  this  that  the  mind 
stands  outside  of  the  sensations,  as  it  were,  and  thus 
judges  them  to  belong  to  a  given  locality.  The 
power  of  discrimination,  which  is  mental,  grows 
right  along  with  the  development  of  these  complex 
sensations  ;  and  so  they  are  not  mere  sensations,  but 
are  also  signs  to  be  interpreted  into  relations  of 
things.  But  all  this  can  only  be  explained  when  we 
come  to  the  subject  of  perception  by  the  senses. 

Sensations    of  Motion    and  of  Position. — The   more 


SENSATIONS  51 

active  organs  of  sense  are  most  of  the  time  in  mo- 
tion ;  or,  if  tliey  are  not  themselves  in  motion,  the 
substances  or  objects  that  excite  them  are  moving- 
over  them.  Hence  we  get  a  great  many  different 
series  or  successions  of  sensations  that  correspond 
to  every  variety  of  movement  of  the  organs,  or  of 
objects  over  the  organs.  And  every  possible  po- 
sition of  the  organs  may  in  turn  be  the  i)oint  of 
starting  on  a  series  of  movements,  or  of  stopping 
after  a  series  of  movements  has  been  accomplished. 
Thus,  SD  to  speak,  does  the  mind  get  acquainted  with 
the  body  and  with  all  its  movable  organs,  in  every 
variety  of  positions  and  in  all  the  different  possible 
courses  of  its  movement.  How  sensations  of  motion 
and  of  position  are  useful  in  the  acquiring  of  a 
knowledge  of  things  will  also  appear  later  on. 


CHAPTEK  IV 

FEELING 

It  lias  already  been  shown  (p.  14f.)  that  we  always 
find  it  possible  to  regard  our  mental  life  in  three 
ways  or  "aspects."  For  we  are  always  actually 
not  only  perceiving-  something  or  thinking  about 
something,  but  also  doing  somewhat  and  feeling 
somehow.  It  is  this  aspect  oi  feeling  somehow  which 
is  now  to  be  considered.  Now,  although  feelings 
are  never  experienced  alone,  or  separate  from  sen- 
sations, ideas,  and  plans,  and  although  the  char- 
acter of  the  feelings  is  dependent  upon  the  sen- 
sations, ideas,  and  plans,  they  are  not  in  nature 
the  same.  The  pain  which  a  bright  light,  a  dis- 
cordant sound,  or  the  memory  of  some  loss  or 
wrong-doing  occasions,  is  a  quite  different  mode  of 
mental  life  from  all  sensations  or  memory-images, 
as  such. 

Nature  of  Feeling. — It  is  plainly  impossible  to  de- 
scribe what  it  is  to  feel  in  words  so  that  another 
who  has  never  felt  a  kindred  form  of  feeling  can 
perfectly  understand  it.  If  there  are  inteUigences 
— like  some  of  the  angels,  we  will  suppose — that  have 
never  suffered  or  rejoiced,  been  surprised  or  disap- 
pointed, they  can  never  be  made  to  know  what  these 
feelings  in  us  are  like.     All  description  is  in  some 


FEELING  53 

form  of  lang-iiage  ;  and  to  one  who  does  not  feelingly 
sympathize  with  its  "  tone  "  language  is  only  the 
expression  of  conceptions  and  thoughts.  TJie  very 
life  and  essence  of  feeling  is  in  being  felt.  This  fact 
explains  why  it  is  that  we  are  so  at  a  loss  to 
commnuicate  our  feelings ;  why,  when  they  are — 
as  we  think — peculiar  to  ourselves,  we  are  so  lonely  ; 
and  why  feeling  is  called  especially  "  subjective  " 
(or  belonging  to  the  "  self  ")  and  never  to  be  con- 
ceived of  as  a  quality  of  things. 

It  follows  that  all  theories  which  simply  aim  to 
tell  what  are  the  bodily  conditions  of  the  vari- 
ous feelings,  or  what  are  the  states  of  intellect 
in  connection  with  which  the  feelings  arise,  mis- 
take entirely  the  problem.  Tliey  tell  nothing  as 
to  the  true  "  nature  "  of  feeling.  For  this  we  must 
all  go  to  our  own  conscious  life,  and  find  and 
recognize  it  there.  But  it  also  follows  that  it  is 
difficult,  if  not  inii)ossible,  to  classify  tlie  fei^lings, 
as  such.  That  is,  every  classification  only  tells  the 
conditions  under  which,  or  the  occasions  on  which, 
the  feelings  actually  arise.  But  to  know  what  the 
feelings  really  are,  there  is  no  other  way  than  by 
noticing  them  as  thoy  are  felt. 

,'  Conditions  of  Feeling — The  physiology  of  the  feel- 
ings is  very  obscure.  As  to  what  in  i\w  nervous 
processes  determines  whether  our  fe(iliiigs  shall 
be  painful  (jr  phsasurable,  something  is  known  ; 
although  the  answer  to  even  tliis  |)i(»l>l(  in  is  by 
no  means  so  Him[)le  as  is  sonn  linn  s  snpiiDscd.  \V(» 
shall  speak  of  it  later  on.     But    what  are  the  ner- 


54  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

vous  processes  wliicli  correspond  to  and  occasion 
the  entire  feeling-aspect  of  our  mental  life  ?  This 
is  an  important  question ;  but  it  is  one  that  almost 
all  students,  both  of  physiolog-y  and  of  psychology, 
have  either  quite  overlooked  or  else  have  answered 
in  a  far  too  shabby  way.  We  shall  now  simply 
g-ive  our  opinion,  and  let  it  stand  for  "what  it  is 
worth  in  the  estimate  of  expert  scholars ;  for  it 
would  be  difficult,  or  impossible,  to  make  it  per- 
fectly clear  to  others. 

There  is  always  an  excess  of  nervous  excitement 
in  the  brain  beyond  that  which  can  be  so  organ- 
ized as  to  serve  as  a  basis  for  clear  perceptions, 
ideas,  and  thoughts.  The  result  of  pouring  upon 
the  centres  of  the  brain  such  a  great  mixture  of 
nervous  impulses  that  arise  not  only  in  the  organs 
of  sense,  but  also  in  the  organs  within  the  chest 
and  abdomen  and  in  the  lower  parts  of  the  ner- 
vous system  itself,  is  to  produce  a  sort  of  "semi- 
chaotic  surplus  "  of  nervous  energy  in  these  centres. 
But  the  character  of  the  nervous  excitement 
already  going  on  in  these  centres,  as  well  as  their 
habits  of  nervous  action,  helps  to  determine  the  net 
result — as  is  the  case  with  all  the  nervous  processes 
that  stand  related  to  our  conscious  life.  Therefore, 
the  hind  and  the  amount  of  our  feelings  depends  not  only 
directly  upon  the  hind  and  amount  of  the  excitement  in 
the  hodily  members  ofiohich  toe  are  distinctly  aioare,  hut 
also  indirectly  upon  this  through  the  relation  which  such 
excitement  sustains  to  our  general  sensibility.  This  is 
the  reason  why  men  differ  so  in  their  feelings  when 


FEELING  f);") 

tliey  have  almost  exactly  the  same  sensations,  ideas, 
and  thong-hts  ;  wliy  feeling-  is,  as  everybody  knows, 
so  capricious  and  little  to  be  depended  on  ;  why  so 
often  one  cannot  possibly  tell  why  one  feels  as  one 
knows  one  does  feel,  etc.  But  we  will  not  at  present 
dwell  longer  on  this  obscure  matter  in  the  physiol- 
og}'  of  the  nervous  sj'stem. 

Kinds  of  Feeling — Some  authors  would  reduce  all 
feeling  to  mere  ijleasure  and  pain.  There  would 
then  be  only  two  kinds  of  feelings,  as  feelings — 
namely,  pleasure  and  pain;  or — to  make  a  useful 
compound  word— all  feeling  is  thus  reduced  to 
"  ijleasure-pain,"  and  only  this.  No  view,  however, 
can  contradict  experience  more  flatly  than  this  does  ; 
and  all  experience,  as  well  as  all  use  of  language, 
contradicts  it.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  some  of 
our  sensations  and  thoughts  are  pleasant  and  some 
are  painful — that  is,  there  are  pleasant  feeling-s  and 
there  are  painful  feelings  ;  and  whether  there  are  any 
feeling's  which  are  "  neutral,"  or  neither  pleasant  nor 
painful,  only  experience  can  decide.  It  is  also  true 
that  the  word  "  feeling  "  is  used  in  a  very  loose  way  ; 
and  thus  some  sensations,  especially  those  of  touch, 
'are  spoken  of  as  belonging-  to  the  "  feelings,"  strictly 
so  called.  Thus  we  say  :  The  marble /ee?*  cool  and 
the  iron  hot ;  the  velvet  feels  smooth  and  soft,  and 
the  stone  hard  and  rough,  etc. 

But  in  the  sense  in  wliich  the  word  is  now  used— 
namely,  as  that  aspect  wliicli  all  conscious  life  has, 
that  is  neither  intellect  nor  will— feeling  is  never  to 
be  resolved  into  mere  pleasure  and  pain.     Instead 


56  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

of  there  being  only  these  two  opposed  kinds  of  feel- 
ing-, there  is  an  almost  indefinite  variety  of  feelings. 
For  the  reason  why  it  is  difficult  to  classify  the  feel- 
ings is  by  no  means  because  there  are  so  few  of 
them  ;  it  is  rather,  in  part,  because  they  are  so  many 
in  kind,  so  variable  and  infinitely  shaded  in  qual- 
ity, so  unlike,  for  very  variety,  at  different  times. 
Moreover,  the  same  feeling  may  be  either  pleasur- 
able or  painful,  according  to  the  bodily  or  mental 
conditions  under  which  it  arises.  For  example, 
there  are  feelings  of  surprise  and  feelings  of  expccia- 
tioii,  feelings  of  excitement  and  feelings  of  re2)0se,  feel- 
ings of  assurance  and  feelings  of  doubt,  feelings  of 
duty  and  feelings  of  beauty,  etc.  Any  one  of  these 
distinct  kinds  of  feeling  may  be  either  pleasurable 
or  painful,  and  this  either  in  a  slight  or  in  an  in- 
tense degree. 

In  classifying  the  feelings,  however,  it  is  most 
convenient  to  regard  the  occasions  on  which  they 
arise,  or  the  kinds  of  intellectual  activity  with  which 
they  are  most  closely  connected.  In  this  way  we 
arrive  at  the  following  classification:  (1)  Sensuous 
Feelings  ;  (2)  Intellectual  Feelings  ;  (3)  J]]sthetical 
Feelings  ;  (4)  Moral  Feelings.  We  shall  here  speak 
very  briefly  of  some  of  the  simpler  of  the  first  two 
kinds,  and  leave  the  more  complex  and  higher  forms 
of  the  life  of  feeling  to  be  treated  later  on. 

Sensuous  Feelings. — "When  any  of  the  senses  are  at 
all  strongly  affected,  we  are  conscious,  not  only  that 
these  senses  are  conveying  us  some  information 
about  our  own  bodies  or  about  external  things,  but 


FEELIXG  57 

also  that  we  are  beinf;:  subject  to  pleasures  or  pains. 
Usually  these  two  effects  "fuse  together  "  so  com- 
pletely that  it  seems  lirojier  to  speak  of  the  sensa- 
tious  themselves  as  either  pleasurable  or  painful. 
Sometimes,  however,  the  feelings  follow  the  sensa- 
tions, so  that  the  latter  may  be  looked  upon  rather 
as  their  causes  or  occasions  than  as  parts  of  the 
feelings,  so  to  speak.  Thus,  for  example,  certain 
tastes  and  smells  are  unpleasant,  depressing,  or  dis- 
gusting ;  and  certain  others  are  pleasant,  invigo- 
rating, or  exciting.  Pleasant  coolness  is  "  refresh- 
ing;" pleasant  warmth  is  "  cherishing."  When  the 
larger  muscles  are  used  in  a  slow  and  regular  way, 
we  feel  "  grave  "  and  "  well-poised,"  or  even  "  pom- 
pous "  and  "  self-important."  "When  we  hop,  skip, 
and  jump,  we  feel  "  free  "  and  "  gay."  A  German 
professor  has  declared  that  even  so  sober  a  person 
as  himself  cannot  easily  feel  "  dignified  "  if  he  walks 
like  a  "  mincing  "  school-girl. 

It  is  well  known  that  different  kinds  of  feeling  go 
with  the  sounds  given  out  by  different  musical  in- 
struments and  with  the  different  musical  keys  and 
chords.  A  little  German  boy,  who  was  allowed  to 
choose  between  two  trumpets  which  had  a  difftsrent 
tone,  in-eferred  the  "  darker  one  "  (that  is,  the  one 
with  the  lower  tone).  All  acquainted  with  music 
distinguish  readily  between  the  subdued  sweet  sen- 
timent which  the  minor  strains  occasion  and  the 
more  excited  and  positive  ])leasures  of  tlu;  major 
strains.  Yet  all,  when  in  certain  moods,  and  sonio 
people   habitually,    prefer   minor   music    to    major. 


58  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

Goethe  long"  ago  spoke  of  the  "  cheerfulness "  of 
yellow  light  and  of  the  "  moumfulness  "  of  feeling 
which  accompanies  looking-  throug-h  blue  g-lass ; 
green  gives  a  feeling  of  repose,  and  red  a  feeling  of 
excitement.  The  obscure  and  massive  sensations 
which  arise  from  the  gross  conditions  of  the  inter- 
nal organs  lose  nearly  all  their  character  as  sensa- 
tions, and  become  mere  org-anic  feelings,  as  it  were. 
And  so  we  speak  of  feeling-  "  queer,"  "  all-overish," 
and  "  not  a  bit  like  ourselves,"  when  the  character 
of  the  feeling-s  is  greatly  chang-ed. 

Feeling's  of  Relation — Many  feeling's  seem  to  de- 
pend, not  so  much  upon  any  particular  sensations, 
ideas,  or  bodily  movements,  as  such,  as  upon  the 
relation  which  the  sensations,  ideas,  and  movements 
sustain  to  each  other.  These  are  sometimes  called 
"feeling-s  of  relation."  And  here  the  important 
principle  is,  that  the  character  and  the  rate  of  change 
ichich  takes  place  in  the  sensations  and  ideas  determine 
largely  the  feelings  which  accompany  them.  For  ex- 
ample, a  sudden  and  abrupt  chang-e  in  the  character 
of  the  sensations  or  ideas  produces  certain  charac- 
teristic feeling-s  of  surprise  or  shock.  This  feeling- 
of  surprise  may  be  that  of  a  pleasant  novelty  ;  or  it 
may  deepen  into  astonishment,  and  then  chang-e 
into  fear.  The  slow,  monotonous  flow  of  similar 
sensations  or  ideas  is  also  felt  as  the  feeling-  of  wea- 
riness, or  en7iui ;  audit  may  then  g-ive  rise  to  restless 
long-ing  for  change.  The  rate  at  which  the  sensa- 
tions and  ideas  change  influences  the  feelings 
greatly.     We  feel  "  excited  "  and  "  brilliant  "  when 


FEELING  59 

this  rate  is  increased  moderately ;  if  it  becomes 
greatly  increased,  we  feel  as  though  our  own 
thoug-lits  were  "  running  away "  w'ith  us.  Some 
forms  of  insanity  are  distinguished  by  the  time-rate, 
as  apparent  to  the  patient  himself,  of  his  successive 
mental  states.  In  "  melancholia "  the  thoughts 
"  drag  on,"  and  the  soul  feels  di'agged  down  corre- 
spondingly. But  in  "  mania "  the  thoughts  run 
helter-skelter,  and  we  feel  "  wild,"  and  as  though  we 
were  at  their  mercy. 

Feeling  as  Pleasure-Pain.  —  Although  the  entire 
nature  of  feeling  is  not  pleasure  and  pain,  most  feel- 
ings have  some,  at  least  slight  degree,  of  this  pleas- 
ure-pain "  tone."  In  using  the  words  "  pleasure  " 
and  "pain"  in  this  way,  we  include  under  them 
every  degree  and  kind  of  agreeable  and  disagree- 
able feeling,  from  the  slightest  uneasiness  of  some 
portion  of  the  skin  to  the  intensest  bodily  anguish  ; 
or  from  the  uncomfortable  consciousness  with  which 
we  regard  a  "  half-l)ad "  [)icture  to  the  sharpest 
grief  at  the  death  of  a  f liend  or  the  remorse  of  au 
outraged  consciencf>.  The  question  whether  there 
are  "neutral  feelings" — or  those  which  are  not  iu 
the  slightest  degree  either  pleasurable  or  painful — 
has  been  mucli  discuss(Hl.  Probably  it  can  oidy  be 
answered  l)y  au  appeal  to  the  experience  of  the  in- 
dividual. This  ai)peal  seems  to  show  that  most 
sensaticnis  and  ideas,  with  the  feelings  which  are 
fused  with  or  accomi»any  them,  sliow  at  least  some 
traces  of  i)leasurc-pain,  when  wo  attend  to  them  for 
the  purpose  of  testing  this  very  question.     Uut,  ou 


60  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

the  other  hand,  there  are  numbers  of  our  visual  im- 
ag-es  or  other  sense-experiences,  as  well  as  of  our 
thoughts,  which  have  so  low  a  degree,  if  any,  of 
pleasure-pain  feeling  with  them  that  this  character 
does  not  attract  attention  ;  and,  indeed,  it  cannot  be 
recalled  as  connected  with  them.  Moreover,  many- 
feelings,  which  once  had  a  rather  pronounced 
"  tone  "  of  pleasure  or  pain,  seem,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  habit,  quite  completely  to  lose  it,  and  be- 
come "  neutral ;"  other  feelings  never  attract  atten- 
tion as  pleasurable  or  painful  at  all. 

Conditions  of  Pleasure-Pain. — It  is  not  known  pre- 
cisely what  it  is  in  the  action  of  the  nervous  system 
which  makes  the  difference  between  pleasure  and 
pain,  or  indeed  what  are  the  bodily  conditions 
of  pleasure-pain  in  general.  One  or  two  experi- 
menters have  claimed  to  find  distinct  "  pain-sj)ots  " 
in  the  skin  (similar  to  the  "  pressure-spots  "  and  the 
"  heat-  and  cold-  spots"  (see  p.  41f.) ;  but  more  care- 
ful observation  does  not  bear  out  this  claim.  There 
is  some  evidence  that  the  excitement  of  special 
parts  of  the  nervous  system  (paths  to  the  brain  and 
brain-centres)  is  connected  with  painful  conscious- 
ness. For  example,  disease  or  chloroform  or  hyp- 
notic sleep  may  render  one  insensible  to  the  pain 
of  sensations  without  destroying  the  sensations 
themselves.  It  is  worthy  of  notice  that  pain  often 
seems  to  be  evolved  more  slowly  than  the  sensa- 
tions, as  such.  Thus  if  we  dip  a  hand  into  very  hot 
or  very  cold  water,  or  get  a  sharp  blow  on  the  sur- 
face, we  have  first  an  intense  sensation  of  being 


FEELTXG  01 

touched ;   and  then  afterward  the   pain   begins    to 
gTow,  as  it  were,  in  consciousness. 

All  biolog-ical  theories  which  attempt  to  account 
for  the  pleasure-pains  assume  that  pleasure  indicates 
action  of  the  nervous  system  which  is  beneficial,  and 
pain  indicates  action  which  is  harm  fid.  But  much 
of  all  this  is  mere  theory,  not  at  all  borne  out  by 
facts.  One  of  the  most  undoubted  conditions  of 
many  bodily  pleasures  and  pains  is  the  intensity  of 
the  excitement  which  produces  the  feeling.  Very 
weak  sensations,  and  what  we  may  call  "  thin"  and 
"  pale "  ideas,  are  generally  disagreeable  ;  they 
make  attention  difficult  and  provoke  us  by  delaying 
the  pursuit  of  practical  ends.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  the  intensity  of  any  kind  of  sensation  is  increased 
beyond  a  certain  limit,  it  tends  to  become  painful. 
Intense  sensations  of  pressure  or  of  temperature 
produce  i^hysical  anguish.   . 

Again,  unsteady,  flickering  sensations  are  dis- 
agreeable. Scarcely  anything  of  the  kind  is  more 
painful  than,  for  example,  to  walk  by  a  high  picket 
fence  and  look  through  it  at  the  sun.  Such  abrui)t 
and  great  changes  in  the  strength  of  the  sensations 
give  no  opportunity  for  the  organism  to  adjust  it- 
self. A  similar  iirinciple  seems  to  api)ly  to  certain 
"feelings  of  relation."  What  interrupts  the  smootli 
flowing  of  the  current  of  conscious  life,  wlicn  it  is 
set  in  any  one  direction,  is  ai)t  to  be  disagreeable. 
Thus,  when  we  are  looking  intently  at  some  object, 
or  listening  eagerly  to  some  sound,  the  faintc^st 
whisper  or  lightest  touch  whicli  distracts  us  may 


62  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

be  exceeding-ly  painful.  These  facts,  and  many 
others,  show  that  we  must  look  chiefly  to  the  cen- 
tres of  the  brain — their  condition  and  habits  of 
action — for  the  explanation  of  the  conditions  of 
our  pleasures  and  pains.  And  this  accords  with 
the  view  already  expressed  (p.  53f.)  as  to  the  condi- 
tions of  feeling-  in  general ;  for  the  way  that  any  jiew 
stimulation  ''Jits  in  with  "  the  existing  conditions  of 
the  hrain,  and  the  character  and  amount  of  the  "  dis- 
turbance'''' lohich  it  produces  in  the  hrain-centers,  is  the 
chief  determining  cause  of  pleasure  or  pain. 

Mixed  Pleasure  and  Pain. — In  persons  who  are  of 
robust  body  and  mind,  all  strong-  emotions  are 
"  naturally,"  for  the  time  being,  more  or  less  pleas- 
urable. It  almost  seems  as  though  it  were  neces- 
sarily productive  of  pleasure  to  find  one's  self  thor- 
oughly alive  in  the  matter  of  feeling.  This  is  as 
true,  in  most  men,  of  anger,  vengeance,  pride,  exces- 
sive self-esteem,  and  other  morally  bad  feelings,  as  it 
is  of  love,  the  spirit  of  devotion,  etc.  That  is,  unless 
tJie  limit  of  intensity  of  strain  tipo7i  the  organism  is  over- 
reached, the  emotions  are  usually  pleasurable,  ivithout 
any  reference  to  their  ideal  character. 

The  question  has  been  debated  whether  any  sen- 
sations, regardless  of  intensity,  are  "  naturally " 
disagreeable.  Some  have  held  that  all  smells, 
sounds,  tastes,  and  other  sensations  are,  so  far  as 
their  mere  quality  goes,  agreeable.  But  the  behav- 
ior of  infants  would  not  seem  to  indicate  this.  There 
is,  indeed,  the  greatest  variety  of  so-called  "  tastes  " 
developed  ;  and  certain  persons  seem  to  show  from 


FEELIINTG  63 

the  first  what  men  generally  are  inclined  to  call 
"  depraved "  or  "  monstrous  "  tastes.  Tliat  is, 
smells,  tastes,  sounds,  and  sights,  which  nearly  all 
of  their  fellows  consider  disagreeable  or  loathsome, 
seem  to  give  pleasure  to  certain  persons.  Some,  for 
example,  enjoy  the  smell  of  burning  feathers  or  of 
asafoetida.  Certain  children,  from  their  earliest 
years,  appear  to  take  a  strange  delight  in  the  pain- 
ful struggles  of  the  insect  which  they  have  pinned 
through  or  whose  wings  they  have  pulled  oft';  or, 
perhaps,  in  the  sight  of  blood — a  spectacle  which 
others  can  scarcely  look  upon  at  all  without  grow- 
ing faint. 

In  the  actual  experience  of  men  almost  all  states 
of  considerable  feeling  leave  a  mixture  of  pleasure 
and  pain.  The  reasons  for  this,  and  for  the  precise 
amounts  of  pleasure  and  pain,  and  for  the  way  the 
two  "  struggle  "  together  to  get  control  of  the  entire 
mental  state,  are  numerous  and  obscure.  But  the 
considerations  just  mentioned  explain  much  of  our 
experience.  While  some  sensations — such  as  bitter 
tastes,  grating  noises,  "  sickening "  smells,  slimy 
touches,  as  from  worms  crawling  over  the  skin — are 
natui-ally  disagreeable  to  most  persons,  and  too 
strong  excitements  of  feeling  are  disagreeable  to 
all ;  on  the  other  hand,  most  emotions  of  Avliatever 
kind  are  chiefly  pleasurable,  and  what  is  far  "  too 
strong "  for  one  person  may  be  only  a  delight- 
fully fvdl  and  free  tide  of  life  for  another.  Tlius  a 
savage  may  thrust  a  spear  tlirough  his  enemy  in  a 
sort  of  transjiort   of  pleasurable  rage.     And  even 


64  PRIMEIl   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

good  men,  Avliile  the  ang-er  is  strong  upon  them,  if 
asked  :  "  Doest  thou  well  to  be  angry  ?  "  will  answer, 
as  the  prophet  Jonah  did :  "  I  do  well  to  be  angiy, 
even  unto  death." 

Rhythm  of  Pleasure  and  Pain. — In  speaking  of  at- 
tention Ave  saw  (p.  5J:f.)  that  it  cannot  be  kept  at  a 
steady  strain  ;  it  rises  and  falls,  sometimes  in  a 
sort  of  rhj^thmic  way.  It  is  partly  in  connection 
with  this  that  pleasures  and  pains  are  always  more 
or  less  intermittent,  as  it  Avere.  No  toothache,  how- 
ever severe,  keeps  up  a  perfectly  steady  strain  of 
pain.  And,  in  fact,  we  may  be  for  a  moment  rather 
pleased  with  our  toothache  if  it  is  considerably  less 
severe  than  it  was  a  moment  ago.  The  same  thing 
is  true  of  pleasures,  especially  if  they  are  someAvhat 
intense.  We  cannot  hold  them  long  at  a  steady 
pitch. 

Connected  with  this  is  also  the  tendency  to  pass 
from  a  condition  of  pleasure  to  one  of  pain,  and  back 
again.  In  early  life,  and  indeed  all  the  way  through, 
the  soul  is  kept  Adbrating  between  pleasures  and 
pains,  by  circumstances  over  which  Ave  have  no  con- 
trol. One  needs  only  to  watch  an  infant  being 
bathed  to  notice  this  fact.  One  instant  he  shudders 
and  cries  with  pain,  the  next  he  gloAvs  and  coos 
Avith  pleasure.  Nature  SAvays  him  back  and  forth 
ceaselessly  between  the  two.  His  exjjerience  Avith 
life  and  his  fitness  to  meet  it  can  only  come  in  this 
way.  And  all  men  have  to  take  their  share  in  the 
pain  as  well  as  in  the  pleasure.  Indeed  it  is  a  truth 
which  poets  and  Avise  men  have  ex]3ressed  in  all 


FEELING  65 

ages  that  the  mind  of  man  tends  constantly  to  react 
from  one  tone  of  feeling  to  the  other.  This  is  espe- 
cially so  of  intense  pleasurable  feelings  :  they  can- 
not last  long-,  and  in  their  ceasing  we  are  apt  to  fall 
over  into  the  other  extreme.  Hence  the  practical 
maxims  not  to  love  too  violently,  lest  disgust  or 
hatred  succeed  ;  not  to  hope  beyond  measure,  if  we 
would  escape  falling  over  into  dread  or  despair ;  not 
to  enjoy  anything  in  excess,  lest  it  become  particu- 
larly distasteful  to  us  ;  and  not  to  admire  immod- 
erately, lest  we  come  unjustly  to  despise. 

Pleasures  of  Rliytlim. — Besides  this  rhythmic  char- 
acter of  the  feelings  with  their  pleasure-pains,  we 
ina,y  remark  the  pleasures  of  rhythm,  which  seem  to 
be  natural  and  to  belong  to  all  men.  This  is  un- 
doubtedly due  to  physiological  reasons,  to  which  at- 
tention has  already  been  called.  If  the  recurrence 
of  the  same  excitement  is  just  about  frequent 
enough,  it  finds  the  centres  of  the  b»'ain  adjusted  to 
it,  and  attention  is  made  easier  as  well  as  the  compre- 
hension of  any  meaning  which  the  experience  may 
have.  In  bodily  movements,  especially  of  numbers 
of  persons  acting  together,  these  feelings  of  rhythm 
serve  to  heighten  pleasure  or  to  lessen  the  task. 
So  sailors  lifting  the  anchor,  or  workmen  handling 
timbers,  besides  the  advantages  of  actually  moving 
together,  get  some  pleasure  out  of  their  otherwise 
monotonous  work.  The  pleasures  of  dancing  and  of 
marching  to  tune  are  partly  of  this  order;  while  the 
pleasures  of  reading  poetry  or  of  having  it  read  are 

increased  in  this  way.     So  also,  in  part,  the  agree- 
5 


66  PRIMER   OP^   PSYCHOLOGY 

able  feeling-s  whicli  arise  when  we  move  the  eye 
easily  along-  the  ornamented  lines  of  a  building'. 

Effect  of  Repetition The   effect,  upon  the  life   of 

feeling-,  of  repeating  frequently  the  same  feelings, 
is  not  the  same  as  the  effect  upon  the  life  of 
thought,  of  repeating  frequiently  the  same  ideas  and 
thoughts.  Several  principles  apply  here,  but  very 
differently  with  different  persons.  One  principle  is 
called  the  principle  of  "  summation."  That  is  to  say, 
by  repeating  pleasurable  sensations  of  a  low  degree 
of  intensity  at  the  right  regular  intervals,  a  large 
amount  of  massive  pleasure  may  be  secured.  By 
"summing  up"  slight  pains,  frequently  repeated, 
almost  unbearable  anguish  may  be  produced.  On 
the  other  hand,  some  feelings  which  are  very  pleas- 
ant or  painful  are  much  dulled  by  constant  repe- 
tition. Pleasurable  feelings  may  thus  become  less 
pleasurable ;  and  some  forms  of  action  that  have 
been  very  pleasant  may  even  become  painful. 

The  effect  of  repetition  upon  the  feelings  of  dif- 
ferent persons  is  very  different.  Some  enjoy  the 
familiar,  others  demand  the  novel.  Changes  of 
scenery,  of  surroundings,  and  of  habits  of  life,  which 
give  some  travellers  the  keenest  pleasure,  make 
others  quite  miserable.  Thus,  too,  some  are  always 
moving,  or  "trading  off"  their  furniture;  while 
others  would  miss  a  single  piece  from  its  accustomed 
place  only  with  great  and  prolonged  misery.  AYitli 
lovers  of  music  the  monotonous  "West  Indian  strains 
which  Gottschalk  used  to  play  are  more  enjoyed 
than  more  varied  themes.     These  and  the  foregoing 


FEELING  67 

facts  are  due  to  two  laws  of  the  nervous  system  :  (1) 
severe  pain  exhausts  the  nerve-centres  and  renders 
them  less  callable  of  strong-  reactions  ;  (2)  the  ner- 
vous system  "  adjusts  "  itself,  within  certain  limits, 
to  habitual  forms  of  being  excited,  and  the  painful 
or  pleasurable  character  of  the  reaction  is  deter- 
mined in  this  way. 

Diffusion  of  Feelings. — The  conditions  of  all  feeling, 
especially  of  the  more  intensely  pleasurable  or  pain- 
ful kind,  so  far  as  they  are  found  within  the  brain, 
are  such  as  necessarily  to  spread  themselves  over 
wider  and  wider  areas.  Every  state  of  highly  pain- 
fnl  or  pleasvrcible  feeling  tends  to  involve  all  the  areas 
of  the  brain,  and  thus  to  influence  a  large  numher  of  the 
ouilying  organs  through  the  siq'>reine  control  which  the 
central  organ  has  over  the  entjre  hody.  Connected 
with  this  is  the  "  association "  of  feelings  with  the 
varied  activities  of  all  the  outlying-  organs.  In  this 
w^ay  certain  sensations  and  movements  become  pleas- 
urable or  painful  on  account  of  the  connections 
formed  between  them  through  the  central  activities. 
But  this  subject  of  "  association,"  and  of  its  effect 
upon  the  life  of  feeling-,  requires  that  we  should 
consider  the  nature  of  our  ideas  and  of  the  laws 
that  bind  them  together,  before  it  can  be  satisfac- 
torily discussed. 


CHAPTEE  V 

MENTAL  IMAGES  AND  IDEAS 

It  is  evident  that  tlie  different  states  of  conscious- 
ness cannot  be  thonglit  of  as  parts  of  one  mental  life 
unless  they  have  something-  to  serve  as  a  kind  of 
bond  between  them.  We  express  this  truth  when 
we  think  of  memory  as  binding  our  present  experi- 
ence to  that  of  the  past.  For  example,  I  remember 
that,  at  such  a  time  and  place,  I  saw  such  a  sight, 
heard  such  sounds,  or  thought  such  thoughts  and 
formed  such  plans.  The  sight,  or  sound,  or  thought 
and  plan  of  the  past  is  now  recalled,  or  "  brought 
back  "  to  mind — as  we  say — by  memory ;  its  "  im- 
age," or  "  idea,"  arises  to  '  "  represent "  it  in  the 
mind.  This  experience,  and  the  language  used  in 
speaking  of  it,  shows  that  the  conscious  binding  of 
past  and  present  tog-ether,  which  makes  experience 
a  unity  of  our  own,  depends  partly  upon  the  nature 
of  mental  images  or  ideas  so-called.  It  will  appear 
later  on  that  this  is  true  of  all  picturing  by  imagi- 
nation, of  the  knowledge  of  things,  and  of  the  proc- 
esses of  reasoning.  Hence  the  importance  of  the 
subject  which  is  examined  in  the  present  chapter. 

Nature  of  the  Mental  Image  or  Idea. — Something 
may  be  learned  on  this  subject  by  considering-  care- 
fully tlie  words   which  are   customarily  employed. 


MENTAL   IM:ACtES   AND   IDEAS  69 

The  Avord  "image"  is  more  properly  used  only  of 
experiences  with   the  eye.     The   Latin   word   from 
which  it  comes  might  be  applied  to  a  mask,  or  a 
g-host,  or  a  phantom.     It  therefore  stood  for  some- 
thing which  is  I'lhe  something  else,  but  which  is  not 
that  which  it  is  like.     The  image  "  represents  "  or 
"  pictures  "  what  it  is  not.     Thus  our  mental  images 
of  the  sights  we  saw  a  year  ago  are  like,  and  so 
fitted  to  represent,  the  sights  themselves  ;  but  they 
may  be  said  to  differ  from  the  sights  somewhat  as 
ghosts  and  masks  differ  from  real  forms  and  faces. 
It  would  seem  somewhat  inappropriate  to  speak  of 
the  "  images  "  of  smells,  of  tastes,  sounds,  touches, 
etc.     But  such  language  would  be  perfectly  true  to 
the   facts,   and  is   very  convenient  in   psychology. 
For  it  is  assumed,  in  general,  that  much  of  what  is 
now  in  our  minds  represents,  or  stands  for,  what  has 
been  in  the  same  minds  in  the  i^ast. 

After-images. — Let  one  fix  one's  eyes  for  a  half 
minute  on  the  flame  of  a  candle  or  lamp  or  on  a 
brightly  colored  spot,  and  then  close  them  and 
watch  what  occurs.  The  first  thing  noticed  will  be 
an  after -i'tiiafjc  of  the  object,  which  is  called  "posi- 
tive," because  it  has  essentiall}'^  the  same  color  as  the 
object  itself.  But  soon  this  first  imago  fades  away, 
changes  color,  and  the  "  negative  "  after-image,  or 
image  with  the  complementary  color  (see  p.  41),  takes 
its  place.  Since  such  after-images  are  clearly  sensa- 
ti(ms,  although  produced  only  by  the  continuance 
of  tliii  excitement  of  the  retina  after  tlie  external 
light  has  been  shut  out,  they  are  sometimes  called 


70  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

"  after-sensations."  But  now,  after  these  sensations 
have  died  away,  many  x>ersons  can  bring  up  again 
in  consciousness  a  fainter  and  less  life-like  copy  of 
the  original  impression.  This  copy  may  be  called 
the  primary  image  or  idea  of  "  first  intention,"  as  it 
were. 

What  is  true  of  experience  with  the  eyes  is  in  the 
main  true  of  experience  with  the  other  senses.  The 
sounds  of  the  violin  that  has  just  ceased  playing 
die  away  graduallj^  in  the  ear.  They  are  sometimes 
made  to  seem  to  continue  by  a  trick  on  the  part  of 
the  i^layer,  who  appears  to  draw  his  bow  over  the 
strings  after  he  has  really  ceased  to  do  so.  After- 
images of  the  sensations  of  temperature  often  can- 
not be  distinguished  from  those  sensations  which 
we  know  to  be  produced  by  changes  of  heat  and 
cold  in  things  applied  to  the  skin. 

Fading  of  Mental  Images — In  general,  all  impres- 
sions of  sense  tend  to  fade  away  and  grow  less  vivid 
as  time  passes.  Many  of  these  images,  if  not 
caught  and  fastened  at  once,  as  it  were,  by  an  inter- 
ested attention,  are  quickly  gone,  and  perhaps 
never  to  return.  For  example,  if  you  are  absorbed 
in  reading,  and  some  one  reaches  over  the  table  to 
take  a  pen,  or  the  clock  strikes,  and  then  within  two 
to  ten  seconds  you  are  asked  :  "  What  has  just  hap- 
pened ?  "  you  can  answer  correctly.  But  if  a  some- 
what longer  time  passes  between  the  event  and  the 
question,  then  you  can  give  no  answer.  For  the 
primary  image  has  then  faded  away  beyond  recall. 

The  time  which   it    ordinarily   takes   for  such   a 


mp:xtal  images  and  ideas  71 

primai'v  mental  iniag-e  to  fade  away  has  been  inves- 
tigatecl  by  experiment.  One  investig'ator  found  that 
the  memory-image  for  weights  sank  very  rapidly 
the  first  ten  seconds,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time 
was  nearly  g-one  ;  the  same  length  of  time  has  been 
thought  to  be  most  favorable  for  our  memory  of  the 
pitch  of  tones.  Another  found  that  a  particular 
shade  of  gray  could  be  recognized  only  so  long  as 
the  interval  was  not  more  than  sixty  seconds.  Still 
another,  who  experimented  by  learning  series  of 
"  nonsense  syllables,"  discovered  that  after  one 
hour  the  memory -image  retained  one -half  its 
strength  ;  after  from  eight  to  twenty-four  hours  it 
retained  one-third  its  strength  ;  after  six  days,  one- 
quarter  ;  after  thirty  days,  one-fifth,  etc.  Some- 
times, however,  these  memory -images  retain  all  the 
vividness  of  sensations  for  days  and  weeks.  Music- 
teachers  often  hear  "ringing  in  their  ears"  for  a 
long  time,  the  sounds  which  their  pux)ils  make  ; 
many  of  us  may  use  the  same  words  to  (h^scribe 
the  memory  of  an  air  we  heard  at  the  concert  of  last 
night  or  of  a  week  ago.  The  experience  of  those 
who  iTSo  the  microscope  much  is  similar.  One 
worker  in  this  science  tolls  how,  when  walking  the 
streets  in  Paris,  he  could  see  the  images  of  his 
preparations  standing  out  on  surrounding  objects. 

Sensations  and  Mental  Images — We  have  seen  that 
sensations  sometimes  fade  away  in^o  mental  images, 
so  tliat  we  cannot  certaiidy  distinguish  l)etween  the 
two.  The  same  truth  as  to  their  ndation  is  gaiiuid 
l)y   taking   tlu;    oi)[)(;site   point  of    view.      That   is, 


72  PRIMER    OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

memory-ima,f?es  and  wliat  is  called  "  Avork  of  the 
imag"ination  "  may  become  so  \ivid  as  to  be  iudis- 
iinguisliable  from  sensations.  Tims  many  persons 
have  only  to  close  their  e^^es  and  try  to  ^nciure  things 
they  have  seen,  and  soon  the  pictures  have  almost  or 
quite  all  the  strength  of  reality.  Some  musicians, 
like  Beethoven  (even  after  he  was  deaf)  and  Mozart, 
hear  the  melodies  and  harmonies  they  compose 
"  ringing  through  their  brains,"  as  it  were.  Some 
painters  can  summon  those  whose  portraits  they  are 
painting  so  vividly  before  them  as  to  paint  from  the 
memory-image  as  though  from  the  form  of  the  per- 
son himself.  The  religious  devotee,  Benvenuto 
Cellini,  in  answer  to  prayer,  used  to  see  the  disk  of 
the  sun  in  his  prison  under  ground. 

Diflferent  persons  differ  very  greatly,  however,  in 
their  power  to  recall  or  to  imagine  with  vividness  the 
impressions  already  had  of  objects  of  sense.  And 
some  who  have  much  power  in  imaging  objects  of 
one  sense  have  little  or  none  in  still  other  directions. 
Thus  some  are  good  "  visualizers  " — as  it  is  said  ; 
that  is,  they  can  vividh^  recall  or  picture  impressions 
which  have  been  received  through  the  eye.  But 
others,  who  are  deficient  in  this  particular  power, 
can  mentally  represent  with  great  intensity  and  life- 
likeness  the  impressions  received  through  the  ear,  or 
the  skin,  and  the  muscles.  Some  also  recall  smells 
and  tastes  much  better  than  most  men  can  ;  al- 
though, if  one  might  speak  of  "  images "  of  smells 
and  tastes,  they  are  ordinarily  much  less  life-like  than 
is  the  case  with  the  images  of  the  other  sensations. 


MENTAL   IMAGES    AND   IDEAS  73 

The  reasons  and  the  effects  of  this  difference  will 
appear  later  on. 

Conditions  of  Mental  Images. — There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  certain  i^roperties  of  the  brain-substance 
furnish  the  physical  conditions  of  the  memory- 
images  and  the  imag-es  of  fanc}^  Somewhat  similar 
Xn-operties  belong  to  all  organized  matter,  and,  in- 
deed,- to  matter  that  is  not — strictly  speaking — or- 
ganic. The  photographer  iirepares  a  plate  which 
stores  up  and  retains  for  months  the  indescribably 
delicate  changes  that  occur  in  the  chemical  lilm 
spread  over  its  surface,  during  an  instant  of  exposure 
to  the  sun's  rays.  A  good  old  violin  may  be  said  to 
have  a  sort  of  "  inorganic  memory  "  stored  up  in  its 
woody  fibre.  The  tissues  of  the  body  generally  re- 
tain the  effects  of  the  conditions  to  which  they  have 
been  subject ;  and  these  effects  they  show  in  their 
habits  of  nutrition  and  growth.  But  the  cells  of  the 
brain  are  by  far  the  most  sensitive  substances  in  this 
way.  It  has  been  said  that  they  are  never  the  same 
after  they  have  been  subjected  to  any  form  of  modify- 
ing influence  ;  they  always  afterward  bear  in  them- 
selves the  "  traces  "  of  this  influence. 

It  would  be  an  entirely  false  interpretation  of 
what  has  just  been  said,  however,  to  suppose  that 
there  are  impressions  literally  made  in  the  substance 
of  the  brain  which  are  "  copies  "  in  any  way  of  the 
impressions  of  sense  ;  or  that  "  traces  "  of  sights  and 
sounds  literally  exist  in  its  fibres  and  colls.  All  we 
know  is  that  the  diflbrcnt  elements  in  this  substance 
— and  probably  also  the  different  molecules  in  each 


74  PRIMEK    OF    PSYCHOLOGY 

element — become  accustomed  to  act  together  in  cer- 
tain ways  wliicli  are  similar  to  those  in  which  they 
have  acted  before.  This  is  to  be  considered  as,  in 
part,  a  tendency  to  react  in  a  similar  way  whenever 
they  are  ag'ain  similarly  excited.  And  this  tendency, 
with  all  that  it  implies,  is  somehow  mysteriously 
passed  over  from  one  stage  to  another  in  the  growth 
and  life  of  the  brain.  This  is  sometimes  called  the 
principle  of  "dynamical  association"  as  applied  to 
the  substance  of  the  brain. 

Images  and  Ideas — If  the  sensuous  vividness  of  the 
mental  imag-e  is  very  low  we  may  call  the  act  and  the 
object  of  our  mental  representation  an  "idea."  This 
word  has  been  used  with  a  great  many  meanings ;  it 
has  also  been  much  abused.  In  spite  of  this,  however, 
it  seems  necessary  to  employ  it  in  tlie  meaning  which 
we  are  about  to  give  it.  To  realize  what  this  mean- 
ing is,  let  us  call  up  as  well  as  we  can  any  experience 
of  some  time  ago  ;  it  may  be  a  very  vivid  flash  of 
lightning  or  a  loud  crash  of  thunder ;  it  may  be  the 
face  of  an  absent  friend  or  of  some  scene  in  nature  ; 
or  it  may  be  certain  thoughts  and  feelings  which 
passed  through  our  mind  at  a  distant  time.  Now — 
to  turn  back  to  what  was  said  at  the  beginning  of  the 
chapter — this  which  is  now  before  the  mind  is  some- 
how Zi^'g  our  first  experience,  and  yet  it  is  not  that 
original  experience.  The  fact  may  be  expressed  by 
saying  it  represents  the  experience,  or  it  stands  in  the 
relation  to  it  of  a  "copy  "  to  its  "  original."  Now, 
tlien,  Ave  shall  understand  better  what  is  the  nature 
of  the  idea  if  we  examine  briefly  what  is  the  nature 


MENTAL   IMAGES   AND   IDEAS  75 

of  the  relation  it  sustains,  as  a  so-called  copy,  to  its 
so-called  original.  This  relation  may  be  examined 
under  tliree  heads  :  (1)  intensity ;  (2)  life-likeness ; 
and  (3)  certain  accompaniments  of  that  whole  state 
of  consciousness  of  which  ideas  form  a  part. 

Intensity  of  Ideas — It  has  sometimes  been  said 
that  ideas  have  really  no  intensity,  since  the  idea  of 
a  cannon's  roar  is  no  louder  than  the  idea  of  a  whis- 
per ;  nor  is  the  idea  of  the  sun  brighter  than  the  idea 
of  a  candle.  But  this  is  to  confuse  what  we  are  now 
calling-  "ideas"  with  thoug-hts.  I  can  tJilnk  about 
"  thunder,"  or  about  "  the  sun,"  without  any  more 
intense  or  vivid  mental  image  of  sound  or  of  sight 
than  I  have  when  I  think  about  "  a  whisper  "  or  about 
"  the  candle."  Probably,  also,  I  rarely  or  never  have 
any  copies  of  my  more  strong  impressions  of  sense 
which  are  equal  in  strength  to  their  originals ; 
though  few  persons,  if  any,  are  unable  to  bring  uji  at 
will  a  concrete  mental  picture  of  some  sense-impres- 
sions which  have  a  high  degree  of  vividness.  That 
shriek,  for  example,  which  you  heard  so  long  ago  ; 
how  it  sounds  still  in  your  ears  whenever  you  think 
about  it !  That  face  of  the  loved  one  who  is  now 
dead  ;  how  it  stands  out  at  times  before  the  mind's 
eye!  And  then  there  is  "the  touch  of  the  van- 
ished hand." 

In  spite  of  the  oltjections  of  some  psychologists, 
we  know  that  certain  of  our  mental  images  arc  less 
vivid  than  the  sensuous  impressions  which  they 
represent,  and  yet  that  they  are  always  more  or  less 
vivid,  and  sometimes  startliiigly  and   painfully  so. 


76  PKIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

Ideas  may  then  pro-perly  (however  figuratively)  Je 
called  "fainter  copies''''  of  their  originals. 

life-likeness  of  Ideas. — The  mental  pictures  which 
memory  or  imagination  produces  are  not  only  more 
or  less  like  their  originals  in  intensity,  but  they 
are  also  more  or  less  like  them  in  respect  to  the 
completeness  with  which  they  represent  those 
originals.  Thej^^  are  more  or  less  full  of  life,  or 
"life-like."  For  example,  let  one  try  to  recall  a 
landscape  or  the  face  of  an  absent  friend ;  one  is 
likely  to  have  to  proceed  with  the  efibrt  in  a  sort 
of  j)iecemeal  way.  The  result  at  any  one  point 
in  the  entire  process  is  not  only  pale,  but  thin 
and  sketchy,  as  it  were.  How  the  face  of  the 
original  landscape  or  person  stood  out  in  com- 
pleteness of  detail!  But  what  we  recall  is  like 
those  traces  or  outlines  which,  when  drawn  upon 
a  blackboard,  only  serve  to  suggest  how  we  should 
go  to  work  by  continuous  activity  of  imagination  if 
we  wish  to  fill  in  more  nearly  the  entire  details  of 
the  picture.  Still  our  perceptions  of  things  by  the 
senses  differ  in  somewhat  the  same  Avay.  Sometimes, 
for  example,  we  are  utterly  astonished  all  at  once  to 
discover  a  great  wealth  of  particulars  in  some  ob- 
ject— like  the  carved  back  of  a  chair,  or  a  picture — 
which  we  have  seen  a  hundred  times  before.  But, 
in  general,  ideas  are  much  less  rich  in  content,  less  full 
hi  life  (or  more  "schematic,"  to  use  a  professional 
term)  than  their  originals  are. 

Accompaniments  of  Ideas The  whole  state  of  con- 
sciousness, when  one  is  remembering  or  imagining, 


MENTAL    IMAGES    AXD    IDEAS  77 

is  quite  different  from  that  when  one  is  observing 
some  object  of  sense  or  attending-  directly  to  what 
is  passing-  in  one's  own  mind.  The  more  "spiritual" 
of  these  differences  will  be  noticed  later  on  ;  it  is 
by  them  largely  that  we  know  wdiether  we  are 
imagining  and  remembering  or  are  "  really  "  observ- 
ing some  object  of  sense.  And  it  is  partly  on  ac- 
count of  the  removal  of  these  differences  that  the 
images  of  dream -life  seem  real,  although  they  are  so 
fantastic  and  impossible  to  realize  in  actual  waking- 
life. 

At  present  it  is  enough  to  notice  that  the  feelings, 
thoughts,  and  movements  which  accompany  our  ideas 
dijft'v  from  those  which  are  connected  with  their  origi- 
nals. For  example,  in  order  to  see  a  landscape  as 
an  impression  of  sense,  I  must  keep  moving  my  eyes 
and  perhaps  my  head  ;  but  this  is  not  necessary  in 
the  same  way  when  I  remember  it.  Then,  too,  tlie 
tone  of  feeling  which  goes  with  impressions  of  sense 
when  they  are  originally  received  differs  from  that 
with  Avhich  they  are  recalled  or  imagined. 

And  this  brings  us  to  another  important  consider- 
ation. Ideas,  like  sensations,  never  occur  alone  or 
separated  in  the  "  stream  of  consciousness "  from 
other  forms  of  mental  life.  Moreover,  they  do  occur 
in  connections  of  various  kinds  with  one  another. 
This  only  amounts  to  saying  that,  when  we  remem- 
b!;r  or  imagine  anything,  what  and  how  we  remem- 
ber or  imagine  depends  upon  wliat  our  experience 
in  the  past  has  been.  This  general  truth  leads  to 
the  following  considerations  about  ideas  : 


78  PRIMER   OF    PSYCHOLOGY 

Fusion  of  Ideas. — B}^  such  a  phrase  as  this  we  must 
not  be  led  to  suppose  that  ideas  are  real  existences 
which  g-et  joined  tog'ether,  or  "fused,"  as  it  were, 
within  the  mind.  But  the  mental  images  of  many 
mqyressions  of  sense  ivMch  luere  originally  separate, 
and  which  x>erl\aps  came  through  different  senses,  ap- 
pear, as  7'eme7nhe7'ed  or  imagined,  in  the  form  of 
inseparahle  parts  of  one  mental  state.  Or  if  they 
are  not  absolutely  inseparable,  the}"  show  a  strong- 
tendency  to  follow  each  other  immediately,  so  as 
together  to  color  the  whole  character  of  conscious- 
ness. Thus  we  read  of  one  learned  man,  who,  hav- 
ing committed  a  book  to  memory  when  running- 
errands  as  a  poor  boy,  could  never  afterward  recall 
the  contents  of  that  particular  book  without  seeing- 
the  flitting"  images  of  the  hedg'es  and  palisades  by 
which  he  ran  when  committing  it.  Another,  who 
had  worked  as  apprentice  for  a  hatter,  could  never 
see  black  wainscoting,  like  that  of  the  room  in 
which  he  had  worked,  without  its  being'  "  fused " 
with  the  image  of  the  smell  of  varnish.  It  assists 
us  all  to  imagine  how,  for  example,  a  violet  smells, 
if  we  call  up  the  mental  picture  of  how  a  violet 
looks  ;  and  it  is  even  difficult  to  imagine  the  den- 
tist's file,  or  the  surgeon's  probe,  without  feeling 
anew  the  disagreeable  sensations  they  actually  oc- 
casion. 

The  fact  is  that  all  our  states  of  memory  and  im- 
agination are  very  complex;  and  the  way  that  the 
numerous  ideas  which  enter  into  them  are  related 
together  is  also  very  complex.     With  different  per- 


MENTAL   IMAGES    AND   IDEAS  79 

sons,  and  with  all  persons  on  different  occasions,  one 
idea  or  another  may  take  the  lead,  as  it  were ;  and 
the  other  ideas  which  accompany  this  one  may  play 
a  more  or  less  prominent  Y)avt  in  the  Avliole  mental 
state.  We  all  illustrate  this  experience  when  we 
confess  how  much  easier  it  is  for  us  to  recall  some 
ideas  rather  than  others.  For  example,  let  a  group 
of  persons  who  have  just  dined  together  at  table 
give  a  mental  picture  of  what  the  total  thing  is  re- 
membered by  them  as  being ;  and  with  one  it  will 
be  more  a  matter  of  sight ;  with  another  more  a 
matter  of  smells,  or  of  tastes,  or  even  of  sounds. 
It  may  perhaps  be  said,  then,  that  ever^/  complex  idea 
is  the  result  of  a  numhei-  of  tendencies  to  rei^roduce  imst 
experience  ivhich  are  solidified  for  the  time  heing  under 
the  limited  and  unifying  activity  of  ihat  particidar 
movement  of  the  mind's  life. 

Spontaneous  Recurrence  of  Ideas.  —  Some  ideas, 
especially,  those  which  have  been  very  recently  and 
vividly  impressed  upon  us  seem  to  keep  up  a  constant 
striving  to  get  into  consciousness  and  to  take  jios- 
scssion  of  its  field.  Of  course,  this  is  really  only  a 
figurative  way  of  looking  at  the  matter ;  but  all 
have  plenty  of  experiences  with  which  to  illustrate 
Avliat  is  meant.  The  boy  in  school  can  scarcely  k(>ep 
down  the  memory  of  his  last  half-holiday  or  the 
idea  of  what  he  will  do  to  cinploy  the  next.  The 
anxious  ideas  of  the  business  or  professional  man 
keep  pressing  to  the  front.  "When  one  is  sejiarated 
from  some  person  wliom  one  loves,  oih'  keeps  on 
finding   the   image   present    in    the    mind,    Avithout 


80  PRIMER   OF   rSYCHOLOGY 

knowing-  liow  it  g-ets  there,  or  even  in  spite  of  all 
effort  to  keep  it  out.  It  is  this  experience  Avhich 
has  led  some  students  of  the  mind  to  speak  as 
though  the  ideas  themselves  existed  underneath 
consciousness,  with  a  sort  of  "  tension,"  or  "  strain," 
or  pressure,  to  rise  up  into  the  conscious  life.  It  is 
better  to  say,  however,  that  such  experience  is  due 
to  the  tendenc}^  of  the  mind,  in  connection  with 
habit  and  interest,  to  act  repeatedly  in  the  same 
way.  That  is,  the  spontaneous  recurrence  of  ideas 
is  due  to  the  mind's  tendency,  somehow  acquired,  to 
go  on  "  ideating  "  as  it  has  done  in  the  past. 

Series  of  Ideas. — Many  of  our  impressions  of  sense, 
and  also  our  experiences  of  other  kinds,  occur  in 
reg-ularly  established  series.  This  may  be  due  to 
the  very  nature  of  thing's  and  of  our  faculties  in 
g-etting-  a  knowledge  of  them ;  or  it  may  be  due  to 
comparatively  artificial  and  changeable  causes.  For 
example,  the  order  in  which  we  remember  a  num- 
ber of  stars  that  we  have  ourselves  traced  out  in  a 
constellation,  or  the  different  mountains  in  a  chain, 
or  the  objects  along  a  road  we  have  travelled,  is 
fixed  for  us.  So  for  the  individual  is  the  order  in 
which  he  learns  the  letters  of  his  alphabet,  or  the 
successive  notes  in  a  tune  which  he  is  taught  to 
sing.  But  many  series  depend  upon  chance  for  the 
order  they  assume ;  or  upon  some  practical  end  to 
be  served  by  running  them  through  ;  or  even  upon 
choice  as  at  first  exercised  in  putting  them  together 
in  a  certain  way. 

But  however  any  series  may  have  originated,  as 


MENTAL   IMAGES   AND   IDEAS  81 

first  committed  to  memory,  it  tends  strongly  to  recur 
in  the  order  in  which  it  first  became  the  i^ossession 
of  the  mind.  This  order  it  may  become  very  difficult 
to  chaug'e.  Thus  it  is  much  easier  for  most  persons 
to  say  the  alphabet  forward  than  backward,  although 
there  is  no  natural  cause  which  determines  why  the 
order  should  be  precisely  as  it  is.  And  probably  no 
one,  on  a  first  trial,  could  sing-  "  Old  Hundred  "  back- 
ward, no  matter  how  many  times  he  had  sung-  it  in 
the  regular  wa}'. 

Two  important  truths  are  known,  however,  about 
the  efiect  of  learning-  ideas  in  series.  First :  if  we 
have  once  learned  a  series,  "  skipping- "  is  possible 
with  some  considerable  saving-  of  mental  strength, 
as  compared  Avith  an  absolutely  new  process  of  learn- 
ing-. To  learn  a  series  without  "  skipping "  makes 
"  skipping "  in  that  same  series  easier.  Thus  the 
experiments  with  nonsense  syllables  (comp.  p.  71) 
showed  that,  on  skipping  one  syllable  in  any  series, 
the  saving  from  having  once  learned  and  then  for- 
gotten the  same  series  was  still  some  ten  per  cent. 
Second :  the  different  members  of  any  series  thus 
learned  together  do,  to  some  extent,  suggest  each 
other  in  the  reverse  order  from  that  in  which  they 
were  originally  learned.  It  is  easier  to  learn  a  series 
backward,  if  it  has  once  been  learned  forward. 
All  this  illustrates  some  of  the  simplest  forms  of  the 
l^rinciple  of  "  association  of  ideas." 

A  sort  of  "  condensation  "  of  such  series  oi  ideas 

takes  place  when  they  are  very  frequently  repeated 

in  the  same  order.     The  mind  rushes  forward,  as  it 
6 


82  PRIM  Ell   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

were,  to  the  end  ;  the  more  impressive  and  important 
members  come  to  stand  for  the  whole,  and  the  less 
impressive  or  important  become  relatively  faint  or 
drop  out  altogether.  It  is  like  the  case  of  from  A  at 
once  to  ^T,  1\  Z,  for  the  whole  alphabet.  If,  for  ex- 
ample, we  try  to  picture  an  entire  voyag-e  from  New 
York  to  Liverpool,  or  from  San  Francisco  to  Yoko- 
homa,  the  whole  is  likely  to  consist  of  a  brief  series 
of  pictures  with  the  more  vivid  and  detailed  ones  at 
the  end  and  a  few  fainter  and  less  life-like  ones 
thrown  in  between.  It  is  only  this  process  of  con- 
densation which  makes  it  possible  for  us  mentally 
to  represent  our  past  with  any  fulness  at  all. 

"  Freeing "  of  Ideas. — It  Avas  seen  some  time  ago 
(p.  76)  that  the  ideas  are  more  sketchy  and  in  outline, 
as  it  were  (more  "  schematic  "),  than  the  original 
experiences  which  they  represent.  It  is  this  which, 
in  part,  makes  it  possible  to  represent  those  experi- 
ences at  all.  For  the  living  realit}^  of  the  world  of 
the  senses,  and  of  our  own  consciously  known  mental 
life,  must  be  recalled  and  imagined  under  compara- 
tively few  forms.  So,  then,  a  process  goes  on  which 
has  been  called  that  of  "  freeing  "  the  ideas.  That 
is,  many  mental  pictures  lose  the  definiteness  of  con- 
nection which  belonged  to  them  at  first.  Thus  they 
stand  for  more  things,  but  for  no  one  thing  with 
anything  like  so  much  detail.  What  this  means  may 
be  made  clear  if  one  will  notice  what  goes  on  in  the 
mind  when  one  tries,  for  example,  to  form  the  definite 
mental  picture  of  a  dog,  a  rose,  or  a  man.  But  here 
the  so-called  "  idea  "  comes  very  close  to  a  "  thovriht 


ME>.'TAL    IMAGES    AND    IDEAS  83 

about  ;  "  and,  indeed,  it  requires  some  consideration 
of  the  question,  what  it  is  to  thinJc,  before  we  can 
pursue  the  subject  further  in  this  direction. 

Association  of  Ideas. — Not  only  are  the  simpler 
ideas  "fused"  but — as  we  frequently  say  (see  p.  78f.) 
— they  become  so  related  that  they  "  suggest "  one 
another.  Thus  one  idea  makes  us  think  of  another  ; 
or  one  idea  "  brings  another  to  the  mind."  In  not  a 
few  cases,  in  spite  of  all  that  psychologists  have  said, 
no  known  laws  rule  the  succession  of  our  ideas.  They 
seem  to  be  thrown  up  without  reason  from  the  dark 
background  of  the  soul's  being,  into  the  light  of 
consciousness.  They  come,  we  know  not  whence  or 
why,  and  go,  we  know  not  whj"  or  whither.  Thus, 
often  in  dreams,  how  fantastic  and  disconnected  the 
mental  images  certainly  appear  !  Nor  does  the  most 
careful  scrutiny  of  them  always  enable  us  to  detect 
any  relations  between  them,  any  reason  why  they 
should  follow  each  other  in  the  order  which  they 
actually  take. 

On  the  contrary,  traces  of  suggestion  not  infre- 
quently— and  perhaps  generally — do  appear  when 
we  inspect  carefully  the  current  of  our  ideas.  For 
example,  some  persons,  on  shutting  their  eyes,  have 
a  series  of  visual  images  unfold  themselves  before 
them,  in  a  very  concrete  and  vivid  way,  to  which  they 
seem  to  remain  passive  spectators,  as  it  were.  To 
take  a  single  instance  :  a  bow — an  arrow — hands 
drawing  a  bow — a  cloud  of  arrows — falling  stars — 
flakes  of  snow — ground  covered  witli  snow.  Here 
a  certain  connection  between  the  dill'ereut  images  ia 


84  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

perfectly  apparent.  In  general,  the  reason  why  one 
idea  rather  than  others  exists  in  consciousness  at  any 
paHicular  time  is  to  he  found  in  the  fact  that  such  an 
other  idea  rather  than  some  one  still  different  preceded  it. 

Laws  of  Association — The  question  of  course  arises 
at  once  wlietlier  any  laws  can  be  discovered  under 
which  to  bring-  this  fact  that  ideas  sug"g"est  each 
otlier.  The  very  word  "  suggest  "  indicates  that  here 
is  a  principle  far  broader  than  any  of  the  particular 
laws  which  have  been  proposed  for  the  association 
of  ideas.  All  mental  life  falls  under  the  princi2ile 
of  suggestion.  For  not  only  do  ideas  suggest  each 
other,  but  actual  sights  and  sounds  and  tastes  and 
smells  suggest  ideas.  For  instance,  the  smell  of 
some  perfume  suggests  the  lady  to  whose  dress  the 
faint  odor  of  it  clung  when  we  met  her  years  ago ; 
or  the  sight  of  suffering  suggests  the  idea  of  a 
remedy,  and  we  run  at  once  to  help  the  sufferer. 
Besides,  we  must  not  think  of  ideas  as  proceeding 
in  this  work  of  suggesting  each  other  like  a  piece 
of  machinery  that  runs  on  by  itself,  as  it  were. 
For  within  certain  limits  we  can  make  use  of  this 
principle  of  suggestion  to  control  the  ideas  ;  ?/'e 
can  suggest  to  the  ideas  that  they  shall  confine 
themselves  within  certain  limits,  and  so  carry  out 
some  plan  we  have  more  or  less  deliberately  formed. 

Various  attempts  have  been  made  to  reduce  to 
the  smallest  possible  number  all  the  so-called 
laws  of  association.  Thus  it  has  been  noticed  that 
means  suggest  their  ends,  causes  their  effects,  signs 
the  things  they  signify,  and  the  reverse.     The  wood 


MENTAL   IMAGES   AND   IDEAS  85 

lying-  by  the  fireplace  suggests  building  a  fire, 
and  the  idea  of  a  fire — itself  suggested  by  the  sen- 
sations of  coolness — suggests  the  wood  to  be  used. 
The  smell  of  the  smoke  suggests  the  fire  as  its 
cause  ;  and  when  one  sees  a  boj'  bringing  a  lighted 
match  near  a  saucer  of  gunpowder,  the  probable 
ejffect  is  immediately  brought  up  in  mind.  Any 
word  or  gesture  suggests  certain  things  or  mental 
states  of  which  it  is  the  sign ;  and  the  thing  or 
feeling  suggests  its  own  name  when  once  one  has 
become  acquainted  with  the  latter. 

Principle  of  Contig-uity. — In  the  attempt  to  reduce 
the  number  of  the  laws  of  association  to  as  few  as 
possible,  there  are  two  which  have  been  most  gener- 
ally adopted.  These  are  the  law  of  "  association  by 
similarity  "  and  the  law  of  "  association  by  contiguity 
in  time  and  place."  By  the  former  it  is  meant  that 
ideas  tend  to  suggest  what  is  like  or  similar  to  them- 
selves. Thus  the  idea  of  this  man  with  the  Roman 
nose  suggests  the  idea  of  another  man  with  the  same 
kind  of  a  nose  ;  or  the  mental  picture  of  this  cathedral 
suggests  another  cathedral  which  has  been  seen  or 
read  about  in  the  past.  By  the  latter  law  it  is  meant 
that  the  parts  of  any  complex  experiences  which  have 
been  had  together  at  any  particular  place  or  time 
tend  to  suggest  each  other.  Thus  the  idea  of  one 
object  in  a  landscape  wo  have  formerly  seen  suggests 
the  other  objects  in  the  same  landscape  ;  or  any  part 
of  an  event  suggests  the  other  parts  of  the  same 
complex  event.  Sometimes  a  principle  designed  to 
cover  the  whole  ground  is  proposed  and  called  the 


86  PRIMER   OF    PSYCHOLOGY 

"law  of  redintegration."  This  means  that,  because 
the  mind  works  under  the  principle  of  habit,  the  ten- 
dency always  is  to  reproduce  the  whole  of  any  past 
experience.  The  principle  and  the  tendency  are  true 
without  doubt,  but  they  do  not  state  in  the  best 
manner  the  one  great  law  of  the  association  of 
ideas. 

This  one  g-reat  law  we  believe  to  be  found  in  the 
"principle  of  contiguity  ;  "  only  it  must  be  remem- 
bered that  ideas  are  not  real  existences,  but  only 
processes  of  the  mind,  and  that  the  "  contig-uity " 
here  spoken  of  is  figurative,  and  implies  the  being- 
jDarts  of  one  complex  mental  process  taking-  place  in 
time.  Similar  ideas,  as  such,  have  no  particular  ten- 
dency to  suggest  each  other.  But — as  will  he  seen 
more  clearly  later  on — whenever  we  are  gaining-  a 
knowledge  of  anything  we  notice  similar  points  and 
bind  them  together,  as  it  were,  in  the  unity  of  con- 
sciousness. Thus  similar  ideas  do  come  to  form  links 
of  connection  in  an  indefinite  number  of  directions ; 
and  in  remembering  past  experiences  we  are  con- 
stantly passing  from  one  item  of  past  knowledge  to 
others  that  have  similar  characters.  But  the  explana- 
tion of  the  so-called  power  of  similar  ideas  to  sug- 
gest  each  other,  as  well  as  of  dissimilar  ideas  to 
suggest  each  other  ("  law  of  contrast "),  or  of  means 
to  suggest  ends,  etc.,  is  one  and  the  same.  In  this 
meaning  of  the  words,  then :  Only  ideas  that  have 
once  heen  contiguous  in  conscious7iess  (that  is,  parts  of 
the  saline  unifying  process  of  the  mind)  tend  to  suggest 
each  other. 


MENTAL   IMAGES    AND    IDEAS  87 

Special  Laws  of  Association — Under  the  g-eneral  prin- 
ciple which  has  just  been  explained,  every  i^erson's 
particular  trains  of  ideas  are  all  "associated"  to- 
gether. But  what  are  the  particular  associations  for 
each  i)erson  at  any  one  time  will  depend  upon  a  num- 
ber of  considerations.  Among-  them  the  following 
are  important:  (1)  What  are  called  the  "natural 
tendencies "  of  every  individual  are  very  powerful. 
Some  have  original  a2'>tness  in  certain  directions,  and 
so  ease  and  interest  in  performing  certain  mental  acts 
rather  than  others.  (2)  Closely  connected  with  this 
is  the  influence  of  temperament,  age,  and  sex.  The 
memory  and  imagination  of  youth  and  of  old  age 
are  difl'erent ;  in  general  the  same  things  suggest 
something  difl'erent  to  women  and  to  men.  (3)  So 
the  mood,  and  the  passing  or  more  permanent  con- 
dition of  body,  has  a  great  influence.  We  are  apt  to 
think  of  gay  things  when  we  are  gay,  and  of  soher 
things  when  u-e  are  sober.  (4)  The  intensity  and 
vividness  of  the  original  impressions,  and  the  way 
they  happen  to  fit  in  with  the  mental  life  at  the 
tim6  the}^  occur,  are  also  very  effective  in  determin- 
ing the  association  of  ideas.  In  this  way  things 
very  trivial  in  themselves  get  to  be  a  part  of  the 
necessary  connections  of  the  mental  life  (see  p. 
78).  (5)  Piejietition  and  habit  are  of  the  very  high- 
est importance.  Everybody  knows  that  ideas  which 
are  brought  together  over  and  over  again  tend  to 
suggest  each  other.  If  this  were  not  so  wo  could 
scarcely  learn  anything  or  foim  ;iny  fixed  habits 
among  our  ideas.     But  ((!)  our  ow  n  fccWngs,  d(!sires, 


88  PRIMER   OF    PSYCHOLOGY 

and  will  have  also  a  great  iiiflueuce.  For,  as  will 
appear  soon,  vje,  to  a  large  extent,  determine  for  prac- 
tical ends  what  trains  of  associated  ideas  shall  run, 
and  the  point  to  which  all  the  trains  shall  be  for  the 
time  directedo 


CHAPTEK  YI 

SMELL,   TASTE,   AND  TOUCH 

There  is  a  wide  difference  between  merely  having" 
sensations  and  knowing-  the  sensible  qualities  of 
things.  For  ideas  and  thoughts,  as  well  as  sensa- 
tions, are  necessary  to  any  knowledge  of  things ;  and 
the  same  truth  holds  with  respect  to  the  knowledge 
of  ourselves  and  of  other  men.  The  common  use  of 
language  illustrates  this.  For  example,  when  speak- 
ing of  what  things  are,  as  known  by  the  senses,  we  fre- 
quently refer  to  our  "  idea  "  of  them,  or  even  to  our 
"  thought  "  about  them.  And  when  looking  at  a  new 
and  strange  object  in  company,  people  are  heard 
asking  of  each  other,  "  Have  you  any  idea  what  this 
is?  "  or  "  AVhat  do  you  think  that  strange  object  can 
be?"  Such  language  recognizes  the  fact  that  one 
has  to  use  one's  memory  and  imagination,  and  to  do 
some  thinking,  too,  if  one  is  going  even  to  perceive 
things.  It  might  almost  be  said  that  perceiving" 
things  is  "  minding  "  things  ;  for  are  not  careless  and 
inattentive  observers  exhorted  to  "  mind "  as  they 
look,  or  listen,  or  feel,  or  taste,  if  they  would  really 
know  what  the  qualities  of  tilings  are  ? 

Nature  of  Perception — The  word  "  perception  "  is 
very  generally  used  in  these  days  for  that  knowledge 
of  things  which  seems  to  come  at  once  through  the 


90  PRIMEIl   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

use  of  tlie  senses.  Thus  one  has  only  to  open  one's 
eyes  and  the  whole  landscape,  or  the  entire  side  of 
the  room  with  its  pattern  of  wall-paper  and  its  pict- 
ures, instantaneously  appears  "  stamped  "  or  "  im- 
pressed" upon  the  mind.  In  hearing  a  piece  of 
music,  where  it  is  necessary  to  listen  somewhat  at- 
tentively, we  seem  to  ourselves  even  more  passive. 
But  when  with  shut  eyes  Ave  are  feeling-  our  way 
about  a  room,  or  are  tracing  the  outlines  of  a  com- 
plex object  (a  geometrical  solid  or  a  piece  of  carv- 
ing), the  fact  that  tve  are  active  in  perception  be- 
comes more  apparent.  So,  too,  when  the  attention 
is  arrested  b}^  something  unfamiliar  in  the  food  we 
are  eating,  we  often  change  quite  abruptly  from 
simply  letting  ounselves  he  impressed  with  certain  sen- 
sations of  taste  to  an  active  tasting  which  is  to  re- 
sult in  telling  us,  by  comparison  with  some  recalled 
image,  what  the  thing  we  are  tasting  is. 

Both  observation  and  experiment  prove  that  the 
distinctions  just  made  are  only  matters  of  degree. 
We  are  active,  attentive,  are  having  ideas,  and  using 
thought — to  a  greater  or  less  extent — in  all  our  per- 
ceptions. The  formation  of  all  perceptions,  jnore- 
over,  consumes  more  or  less  of  time.  This  is  a  matter 
which  can  be  tested  by  experiment ;  and  it  is  actually 
found  that  the  number  of  thousandths  of  a  second 
which  it  takes  to  perceive  any  object,  or  group  of 
objects,  depends  on  their  complexity  and  on  the  ac- 
tivity of  the  mind  in  recalling  ideas  and  in  thinking 
out  the  meaning  of  sensations.  Besides,  conscious- 
ness actually  shows  how,  while  studying  attentively 


SXELL,  TASTE,  AXD   TOUCH  91 

the  same  object  for  several  seconds,  the  knowledge 
of  it  actnally  grows,  in  dex)endence  on  the  degree 
and  manner  of  minding  it,  as  it  were. 

It  appears,  then,  that  all  t lie  elementary  processes  of 
co?iscious  mental  life  are  concerned  in  Perception  Ijy  the 
senses  ;  hut  the  other  processes  are  to  be  regarded  c(s  ex- 
cited, directed,  and  determined,  loith  respect  to  the  entire 
state  of  consciousness,  chiefly  hy  those  peculiar  modifica- 
tions of  consciousness  lohich  have  heen  called  sensations 
(see  p.  321). 

Development  of  Perception. — It  follows,  from  what 
has  just  been  said,  that  all  perceptions  by  the  senses 
are  matters  of  growth.  Babies  jnst  born  perceive 
nothing ;  to  them  there  are  no  "  things,"  because 
they  have  not  yet  learned  how  to  perceive  or  "  mind  " 
them.  In  adult  life  also  the  perceptions  of  different 
persons  are  very  different.  One  man's  eye  or  hand 
instantly  perceives  what  another's  cannot  perceive 
at  all,  or  can  perceive  oidy  after  the  slowest  and 
most  laborious  effort.  On  tliis  general  truth  all 
students  of  psychology  arc  agreed.  Nothing  that 
the  modern  study  of  the  science  has  done  is  more 
important  than  the  emphasis  and  clearing  up  of  this 
truth.  More  and  more  science  has  traced  in  detail 
how  it  is,  and  under  what  conditions,  that  perception 
by  the  senses  develops.  But  no  investigation  has 
made  perfectly  clear — and  perhaps  it  will  never  be 
known — just  liow  much,  and  what,  of  this  many- 
sided  activity  of  tlie  mind  must  be  called  "natural " 
or  "native  ;"  and  just  how  much,  and  what,  must  be 
assigned  to  developm(;nt.     More   would  be  known 


92  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

about  the  whole  subject  if  we  could  penetrate  the 
mysteries  of  the  baby's  consciousness,  and  so  dis- 
cover precisely  what  the  character  of  his  sensuous 
experience  is.  Do  his  sensations  of  light  and  color, 
his  feelings  of  pressure  and  motion,  seem  to  him  to 
be  "  out  "  of  his  consciousness ;  have  these  sensa- 
tions any  quality  of  being  "  spread  out  "  or  extended, 
at  all  as  ours  are  ?  Have  his  first  sensations  of  heat 
and  cold,  his  first  sensations  connected  with  the  play 
of  the  muscles  which  move  the  limbs,  any  "  locality  " 
whatever?  Have  they  any  quality  other  than  that 
which  has  already  been  spoken  of  as  belonging  to 
"local  signs"  (p.  50),  that  would  make  it  possible 
to  locate  them  as  not  "  in  consciousness  ?  "  Is  the 
distinction  between  "  the  inner "  and  "  the  outer " 
possible  to  the  infant's  mind  at  all  ? 

These  are  all  questions  to  which  only  a  doubtful 
answer  can  be  given.  And  so  brief  and  elementary 
a  treatise  of  the  subject  as  this  can  scarcely  be  ex- 
pected to  do  more  than  call  attention  to  them. 

Classes  of  Perceptions. — Some  kinds  of  perceptions 
do  most  obviouslj^  reveal  at  once  the  qualities  of 
things  as  others  do  not.  This  distinction  between 
different  perceptions  all  language  and  all  experience 
makes  plain.  And  here,  on  the  one  side,  stand  the 
smells,  tastes,  and  sounds  of  things ;  while,  on  the 
other  side,  stand  sight  and  touch — if  in  the  latter 
be  included  all  the  knowledge  which  comes  also 
through  the  use  of  the  muscles  and  joints.  For  by 
smell,  taste,  and  hearing  (as  distinct  fro  in  the  j)er- 
ceptions  of  touch  which  accompany  and  fuse  with 


SMELL,  TASTE,  AND   TOUCH  93 

them)  no  direct  knowledge  of  tlie  qualities  of  tliing-s 
is  gained.  "VVe  smell,  and  assig-n  the  odor  to  such 
an  object  located  in  such  a  spot,  because  we  have 
before  experienced  the  same  sensations  in  connec- 
tion with  the  seen  or  felt  presence  of  the  object ;'  and 
because  we  can  know,  or  g-uess  its  direction  by  cer- 
tain changeable  sig-ns.  So,  also,  if  the  flavor  of  the 
object  be  considered  wholly  apart  from  its  "  feel "  in 
the  mouth  as  it  is  being-  tasted,  we  are  affected  ;  but 
through  this  affection  only  an  indirect  knowledge  is 
obtained  of  the  existence  and  qualities  of  any  thing. 

On  the  contrary,  what  we  see  and  touch  is  the 
thing,  as  known  to  the  mind  by  the  senses,  actually 
there  present  and  spread  out  in  extension  before  us, 
as  it  were.  This  is  true  of  its  color  and  hardness 
or  softness,  its  roughness  or  smoothness,  and  all  its 
solidity  and  weight,  etc.  Thus  any  particular  thing 
might  be  described  as  he'uig  what  it  appears  to  sight 
and  touch  to  be  ;  and  then  there  might  bo  added 
what  also  idc  hiow  about  the  odors  and  sounds  it 
can  "  give  forth,"  or  the  "  way  "  it  tastes  when  taken 
into  the  mouth.  Honco  sight  and  touch  are  some- 
times called  the  "  geometrical  senses  ; "  because 
they  give,  as  actually  present  in  the  thing,  its  quali- 
ties of  a  spatial  kind.  But  smell,  taste,  and  hear- 
ing are  called  "non-geometrical;"  because  they  do 
not  directly  afford  any  knowledge  of  the  S])atial 
qualities  of  things. 

The  different  principal  forms  of  perception  by 
the  senses  may  now  be  considered  in  particular  ;  ;nid 
what  lias  been  said  as  to  the  nature  and  growth  of  all 


94  PIMMKU    OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

perception,  and  as  to  the  relation  of  tliese  two  classes 
of  sensations,  should  be  kept  constantly  in  mind. 
For  purposes  of  convenience,  however,  the  different 
perceptions  will  not  be  treated  in  the  precise  order 
which  is  sug'gested  by  these  two  classes. 

Perceptions  of  Smell.— Perceptions  of  smell  afford 
no  direct  knowledge  of  the  qualities  of  things  as  ex- 
ternal and  spread  out  in  space.  If  two  different 
smells  o]oerate  upon  the  organs  at  the  same  time, 
the  stronger  of  the  two  drowns  out  tlie  weaker. 
Two  smells  cannot,  so  to  speak,  be  made  to  lie  "  side 
by  side  "  in  space.  We  know  even  that  the  nose  is 
the  organ  of  smell  only  indirectly  through  the  sensa- 
tions caused  by  the  muscles  in  sniffing  in  the  air  and 
by  the  passage  of  the  air  over  the  skin  of  the  nos- 
trils. The  direction  of  the  object  which  occasions 
any  smell  is  also  known  only  indirectly,  by  the  amount 
and  quality  of  the  sensations,  as  the  head  is  turned 
toward  or  away  from  it,  or  as  the  body  moves  in  the 
direction  where  it  is  situated. 

There  is  a  kind  of  knowledge  which  comes  from 
smell  that  admits  of  a  high  degree  of  cultivation. 
But  it  is  the  lower  animals  and  the  lower  races  of 
men  which  usually  possess  this  perception  in  its  most 
acute  form.  The  negroes  of  the  Antilles  are  said  to 
distinguish  by  smell  the  footsteps  of  a  negro  from 
those  of  a  Frenchman  ;  so  also  the  Indians  of  Peru, 
the  race  to  which  an  approaching  stranger  belongs. 
Some  subjects,  when  in  the  hyi^notic  state,  can  assign 
the  articles  belonging  to  an  entire  roomfull  of  per- 
sons by  the  peculiar  odor  of  each.      It  is  said  that 


SMELL.  TASTE.   AlVD   TOUCH  95 

Caspar  Hanser  could  tell  the  leaves  of  diflferent  trees 
by  smell. 

Perceptions  of  Taste.— As  regards  the  knowledge 
gained  of  the  qualities  of  bodies,  perceptions  of 
taste  resemble  those  of  smell.  But  in  tasting-  any 
substance,  it  is  actively  rolled  about  in  the  mouth  ; 
thus  the  substance  is  also  knowTi  by  the  skin  and 
muscles,  as  located  "in  the  mouth,"  and  as  hard  or 
soft,  fluid  or  solid,  and  also,  to  some  extent,  as  hav- 
ing such  a  size  and  shape,  or  as  so  many  in  num- 
ber. 

The  more  highly  civilized  peoples  are  more  dis- 
criminating in  tastes :  the  very  reverse  of  the 
ordinary  rule  for  perceptions  of  smell.  They  use 
jDerfumes  mostly  for  mere  pleasure,  and  not  to  give 
them  any  knowledge  of  things ;  but  the  case  is  not 
the  same  with  the  delicacy  and  acuteness  of  tastes. 
Tea-tasters  and  wine-merchants,  for  example,  bo- 
come  exceedingly  accurate  judges  of  the  "  crop  "  or 
the  "  vintage  ; "  and  it  is  said  that  certain  Roman 
epicures  professed  to  know  by  taste  where  the  fish 
was  caught,  and  on  which  leg  a  partridge  had  slept 
just  beftjre  Ijeing  killed.  Men  in  general  are  becom- 
ing more  and  more  "  particular  "  in  their  tastes. 

Perceptions  of  Touch. — Under  this  head  may  be 
included  all  the  knowledge  of  things  that  comes 
immediately  through  the  skin,  muscles,  and  joints. 
Through  these  organs  at  least  four  classes  of  sensa- 
tions are  derived  (com p.  p.  -Hf.).  But  if  the  divis- 
ion is  made  according  to  tlie  two  principal  classes 
of  bodies  whose  qualities  and  relations  to  each  otlier 


96  PRIMER   OF   rSYCHOLOdV 

are  known  in  this  way,  it  may  be  said  :  by  touch  one 
has  the  i^erception  of  one's  own  body,  of  its  different 
areas  and  their  conditions,  and  also  of  the  various 
other  bodies  which  in  any  way  come  into  contact 
with  it.  These  two  kinds  of  knowledg-e  (the  knowl- 
edg-e  of  our  ovm.  body  and  the  knowledg-e  of  other 
bodies)  proceed,  to  a  large  extent,  as  it  were,  side  by 
side.  That  is,  the  child  does  not  first  attain  a  com- 
plete knowledge  of  its  own  body  and  then  make  use 
of  this  knowledge  to  acquire  the  knowledge  of  those 
qualities  of  other  bodies  which  come  by  touch  ;  nor 
does  it  first  know  all  the  qualities  of  other  thing-s  by 
touch,  and  then  apply  this  knowledge  to  the  task  of 
learning-  to  know  its  own  body.  But  little  by  little, 
what  is  at  first  all  confusion,  as  it  were,  clears  up ; 
and  so  the  different  members  of  the  body  become 
mentally  separated  from  each  other  and  from  the 
things  known  in  contact  with  them.  How"  this  proc- 
ess comes  about  we  shall  now  try  briefly  to  explain. 
Earliest  Knowledge  of  the  Body  by  Touch. — It  is 
probably  crude  perceptions  of  the  arms  and  leg-s, 
and  perhaps  of  the  alidomen,  back,  and  face  (espe- 
cially around  the  mouth),  which  constitute  for  the 
infant  its  first  knowledge  of  its  own  body.  These 
are  the  parts  that  are  either  most  in  motion,  or  else 
are  oftenest  pressed  upon  somew^hat  heavily  or  are 
subjected  to  changes  of  temperature.  The  follow- 
ing exi^eriment  is  instructive,  as  showing  how  very 
broken  and  "  scrappy,"  as  it  were,  is  even  the  more 
mature  knowledge  of  our  own  bodies,  solely  by  touch. 
Let  one  shut  one's  eyes  and  try  to  divert  attention 


SMELL,  TASTE,  AND   TOUCH  07 

from  all  images  of  the  bodily  members  that  have  come 
by  sight ;  and  now  what  is  one's  body  to  one's  own 
self  ?  As  we  let  attention  wander  over  the  field,  so 
to  speak,  we  fetil  one  limb  after  the  other ;  but  this 
onh'  obscurely,  unless  some  part  of  the  limb  is  be- 
ing- rather  sharply  pressed  by  the  chair,  or  b}'  some 
other  portions  of  our  own  body.  If  now  one  wants 
more  definitely  to  perceive  any  part  of  one's  own 
body  in  terms  of  touch,  one  has  to  move  it  so  as  to 
bring  out  the  sensations  of  the  muscles  ;  or  to  press 
it  against  something,  so  as  to  intensify  the  sensa- 
tions of  the  skin.  It  is  not  possihle  all  at  once,  and 
as  a  vjhole,  to  perceive  one's  ow/i  hody  hy  touch.  For 
one  born  blind  the  body  always  consists  only  of  a 
system  of  members,  thus  interrupted  rather  than 
continuous,  and  that  must  be  felt  successively  rather 
than  seen  simultaneously.  And  even  persons  not 
blind,  who  have  lost  a  leg,  for  example,  sometimes 
feel  the  foot  which  belonged  to  that  leg  as  though 
it  stuck  out  immediately  from  the  stump. 

It  is  i)ossible  to  explain  how  these  perceptions  of 
the  body  by  touch  are  acquired.  It  must  be  remem- 
bered, however,  that  the  infant's  first  movements  of 
its  limbs  are  random  and  impulsive ;  or  else  they 
are  reflex — that  is,  are  due  to  the  eftect  of  some  kind 
of  irritation  upon  the  external  parts  of  the  body  (see 
p.  50f.).  They  imply  neither  any  perceptioji  of 
themselves  nor  of  some  end  to  be  gained  by  the 
movement.  They  are  more  of  the  nature  of  a  living 
machine  that  runs  i^artly  as  stirred  u|>  by  s])rings 
inside  itself,  and,  partly,  by  forces  acting  ui)on  it 


98  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

from  without.  We  miglit  even  say  that  these  move- 
ments are /or  consciousness  instead  of  being  hy  con- 
sciousness. AVe  shall  now  consider,  further,  the  two 
classes  of  important  j)erceptions  which  enter  into 
the  earliest  knowledge  of  our  own  bodies  by  touch. 

Perceptions  of  Motion  by  Touch. — The  movement  of 
any  of  the  limbs  occasions  a  series  of  complex  and 
blended  sensations,  which  come  both  from  the  skin 
and  also  from  the  muscles  and  joints.  The  charac- 
ter of  this  series  depends  u^^on  the  particular  limb 
which  is  being-  moved  and  upon  the  direction,  inten- 
sity, and  distance  of  its  movement.  It  can  easily  be 
seen  that  this  must  be  so,  if  it  be  considered  that 
the  skin  is  diiferently  stretched  over  the  muscles 
and  joints  of  each  limb,  and  that  it  has  different 
degrees  of  sensitiveness  for  its  different  areas  ;  that 
the  masses  of  the  different  muscles  and  the  range 
and  intensity  of  their  movement  are  different ;  and 
that  the  sensations  due  to  pressure  at  the  joints 
vary  as  the  character  of  the  joints  and  as  the  amount 
and  direction  of  the  pressure  vary.  We  can  even 
experience  the  fact  that  this  is  so  by  moving  any  of 
our  larger  limbs  and  meanwhile  carefully  watching 
the  changes  which  take  place  in  the  complex  quality 
of  all  these  different  classes  of  sensations. 

For  example,  if  the  arm  be  given  a  strong,  wide 
swing  in  any  direction,  the  result  is  to  call  out  a  cer- 
tain series  of  complex  sensations,  which  stand  in  con- 
sciousness for  that  particular  movement  of  the  arm,  so 
far  as  it  is  known  by  touch.  If  the  strength,  or  range, 
or  direction  of  the  swing  of  the  arm  be  changed,  then 


SMELL,  TASTE,   AND    TOUCH 


99 


the  series  of  resulting-  complex  sensations  changes. 
All  this,  when  referred  to  the  arm  as  known  by  sight, 
u  the  x'>erception  of  the  arm  as  variously  in  movement 
and  known  to  touch.  That  is  to  say,  my  arm,  which 
I  know  as  a  w^hole  chiefly  from  having  seen  it,  is  now 
known  b}^  touch  to  be  moving  in  such  or  such  a 
direction,  etc.  And  what  is  true  of  the  arm  when  in 
movement  is  true  of  every  other  member  of  the  body, 
and  of  the  body  as  a  whole.  In  the  case  of  moving 
the  body  as  a  whole,  however,  a  great  many  obscure 
indications  which  come  from  the  internal  organs 
contribute  to  the  complex  result. 

Perceptions  of  Position  on  the  Skin. — E.  H.  Weber 
called  attention  to  the  interesting  fact  that,  by  using 
a  pair  of  compasses  on  the  different  parts  of  the 
skin,  the  distance  apart  which  the  two  points  must 
be  placed  in  order  to  be  actually  felt  as  two  is  found 
to  differ  very  greatly.  For  example,  on  the  tip  of 
the  finger  or  the  red  part  of  the  lip  it  may  reciuire 
only  one-twenty-fifth  to  one-tenth  of  an  inch,  while 
on  some  parts  of  the  back  and  of  the  upper  arm  or 
leg  it  may  require  between  two  and  three  inches. 
More  recent  experiments  have  shown  that  every 
area  of  every  individual's  skin  may  thus  be  "  mapped 
out"  with  regard  to  its  comparative  sensitiveness  to 
touch  ;  and  that  every  area  differs  from  every  other, 
both  in  the  case  of  the  same  individual  and  in  case 
we  compare  different  individuals.  If,  again,  a  pair 
of  compasses  l;e  i-un  over  the  skin  of  any  coiisid(>r- 
able  area  of  the  body,  witliout  actually  changing  the 
distance  apart  of  the  points,  then  they  will  seuiu  to 


100  PEIMEIl   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

spread  apart  or  to  come  tog-ether,  according  to  tlie 
relative  sensitiveness  of  the  areas  that  are  crossed. 

Let  this  fact  now  be  considered  in  connection 
with  what  was  seen  (p.  41f.)  to  be  true  of  the  "  press- 
nre- spots  "  and  "  heat-spots  "  and  "  cokl-spots  "  of 
the  skin.  It  now  appears  that  the  surface  of  the  body 
is  capable  of  yielding-  an  indefinite  variety  of  impres- 
sions due  to  the  complex  result  of  exciting-  its  differ- 
ent elements,  either  in  succession  or  closely  together. 
So  that  anything  travelling  over  the  skin  marks  out 
the  different  areas,  as  it  were,  in  consciousness.  Each 
area  has  its  complex  characteristics,  which  corre- 
spond to  that  particular  area  and  to  no  other.  And 
here,  as  in  the  case  of  the  muscles,  each  series  of  per- 
ceptions corresponds  to  movement  over  a  series  of  areas 
related  together  by  the  conscious  activity  of  the  ynind. 

Positions  of  the  Movable  Parts. — There  are  very 
obvious  means  at  the  command  of  the  mind  for  dis- 
tinguishing the  relative  positions  of  the  different 
movable  parts  of  the  body.  In  understanding  this 
subject,  two  important  differences  between  our  per- 
ceptions of  the  bodily  members  at  rest  and  of  the 
same  members  in  motion  must  be  kept  in  mind.  (1) 
Wlien  a  limb  is  at  rest  it  may  either  be  held  in  posi- 
tion by  the  muscles,  or  it  may  be  supported  in  posi- 
tion by  some  other  part  of  the  body  or  b}^  some 
external  thing.  But  the  complex  character  of  the 
perceptions  is  very  different  in  each  of  these  three 
cases,  as  any  one  may  see  by  giving  careful  atten- 
tion to  his  own  experience  under  each  of  the  three 
cases.     And,  further  (2),  our  perceptions  of  the  mov- 


SMELL,  TASTE,  AND   TOUCH  101 

able  parts,  wlien  they  are  not  in  motion,  are  very 
much  less  clear  and  vivid.  In  order  to  make  them 
more  clear  and  vivid,  one  has  to  make  a  demand 
upon  memory ;  and  what  one  tries  to  remember  is, 
usually,  either  how  they  look  to  si^ht  or  how  they 
felt  when  they  were  in  motion.  Thus  experience 
shows  that,  so  far  as  touch  without  sight  is  concerned, 
tlie perception  of  the  position  of  the  movable  parts  of 
our  bodies  is  largely  a  system  of  associated  ideas  due 
to  previous  movements. 

Development  of  Perception  by  Touch All  increase 

in  the  knowledge  of  one's  own  body  by  perceptions  of 
skin,  muscles,  and  joints,  proceeds  in  the  main  from 
what  is  more  coarse  and  confused  to  what  is  finer  and 
more  clear.  It  is  in  "  blurred  masses,"  as  it  were, 
that  the  infant  first  jierceives  parts  of  his  own  body  ; 
such  as  his  own  lips,  mouth,  and  cheeks,  by  their 
being  engaged  in  nursing  and  their  being  fondled,  or 
his  back  and  abdomen  as  pressed  upon  while  being- 
dressed  or  while  lying  on  the  bed  or  the  floor ;  or 
his  limbs  as  being  grasped  and  kept  almost  con- 
stantly in  motion.  At  first,  then,  an  infant  cannot 
feel  a  burn,  or  the  prick  from  a  pin,  as  definitely  in. 
any  particular  part  of  its  body  ;  or — as  one  writer 
has  expressed  it — it  cannot  "  place  its  too  in  the 
pain."  It  is  through  attention,  excited  by  interest 
and  leading  to  finer  and  finer  discriminations,  that 
it  comes  gradually  to  clear  up  the  details  of  its  own 
body. 

All    this    developinciit,    however,    is    ess(^ntially 
aided  by  the  use  of  the  eye.     And  in  tlie  same  ex- 


102  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

periences  tlie  infant  is  also  learning  to  know  other 
tilings  b}^  touch  as  separable  and  difierent  from  its 
own  body.  The  x^rocess  of  acquiring-  knowledge  of 
other  bodies  by  these  perceptions  must  now  be 
briefly  considered. 

Distinction  of  our  Body  and  Other  Bodies.— The  pro- 
cess of  "  setting  off"  other  bodies  from  our  own  body 
by  touch  is  the  result  of  mental  activity ;  it  is  a  devel- 
opment. Two  very  important  distinctions,  however, 
make  such  a  process  possible  :  (1)  Some  jjerceptions 
of  this  class  are  very  sti'ongly  colored  with  feelings 
of  pleasure  or  pain,  while  others  are  almost  wholly 
without  any  tone  of  feeling.  Again  (2),  some  j^er- 
ceiDtions  are  also  dependent  upon  our  own  willing, 
wishing,  and  striving,  as  others  are  not. 

At  first  the  infant  undoubtedly  perceives  other 
bodies  only  in  the  same  vague  and  incomplete  way 
in  which  it  perceives  its  own  body.  But  even  then 
the  two  kinds  of  marked  differences  just  spoken  of 
are  prominent.  For  example,  when  the  mother  or 
nurse  grasps  the  child  and  puts  it  into  the  bath,  or 
when  the  bands  about  its  body  are  tightened  or  re- 
moved, or  when  a  fly  lights  upon  its  skin  and  then 
goes  away  of  itself,  its  experiences  are  very  different 
from  those  which  have  just  been  described  as  giving 
it  a  perception  of  its  own  body.  What  is  perceived 
as  some  other  body  than  its  oioi  is  connected  with  its 
pleasures  and  pains  in  a  vxiy  that  it  cannot  control. 
When  it  strikes  itself  with  its  own  fists,  or  kicks  it- 
self with  its  own  legs,  it  gets  a  sort  of  double  lesson 
in  making  the  same  distinction.     Part  of  its   own 


SMELL,  TASTE,  ATSTD   TOUCH  103 

body  tlins  becomes  another  body  to  itself  for  tlie 
time  being. 

The  same  kind  of  a  distinction  is  much  more  finely 
drawn  every  time  we  trace  out  any  part  of  our  own 
bodies  with  the  hand — "  feel  of  ourselves,"  as  we  say; 
and  then,  again,  when  we  use  the  same  hand  to  trace 
out  the  outlines  of  some  external  body.  In  the  first 
case,  one  series  of  perceptions  represents  oiu'selves 
as  "  touching  "  something,  and  the  other  represents 
ourselves  as  "  being  touched."  In  the  second  case, 
one  series  represents  ourselves  as  "  touching,"  and 
the  other  represents  a  thing  that  is  "  not  ourselves  " 
as  being  touched.  The  best  way  to  bring  out  all 
these  distinctions  in  consciousness  is  to  experiment 
and  notice  carefully  how  we  fuel  meanwhile. 

Qualities  of  Bodies  by  Touch. — It  is  chiefly  through 
the  skin  that  the  superficial  qualities  of  bodies  are 
known  to  touch.  The  series  of  ini])r('ssions  made 
on  this  organ  is  very  diiferent,  whether  the  thing 
being  explored  is  "  smooth  "  or  "  rough,"  "  hard  "  or 
"soft,"  "dry"  or  "moist,"  "cool"  or  "warm," 
"  sticky  "  or  not,  etc.  In  perceptions  of  hardness 
and  softness  of  texture  the  muscles,  whenever  the 
pressure  is  slightly  increased,  come  into  play. 
The  dry  and  the  moist  are  apt  to  combine  sensa- 
tions both  of  pressure  and  of  temi^erature. 

It  is  obviously  due  to  the  use  of  the  muscles  in 
pulling  and  i)ushing,  in  straining  or  actually  lifting, 
thai  liodiisH  are  known  as  "solid"  and  "  I'cnl  "  to 
toucli.  rii^e  percejdioii  of  tsoUdiiy  cannut  be  (ja'ined 
witlioid   the  experie)ice  of  iiioveiiientf^,   as  actital  (ind 


104  PRi:\rEr.  of  psychology 

resisted,  hy  means  of  the  solid  masses  of  our  oicn 
hody. 

All  knowledge  of  the  size,  weiglit,  etc.,  of  bodies 
is  comparative,  and  depends  upon  a  yariety  of  per- 
ceptions wliich  they  occasion.  Here  the  way  the 
particular  body  meets  the  expectation  of  the  mind 
has  no  little  influence.  Bodies  that  move  more 
easily  than  was  expected,  appear  lighter  than  they 
are  ;  bodies  that  move  only  after  giving  us  more 
than  the  expected  resistance,  appear  heavier  than 
they  are.  The  rate  of  movement  also  is  of  influence. 
If  a  body  is  raised  quickly,  it  is  perceived  to  be 
lighter  than  when  it  is  raised  slowly.  The  principle 
of  contrast  also  comes  in  to  distiirb  our  perceptions. 
If  one  stands  for  a  long  time  with  heavy  weights  in 
both  hands,  and  then  lays  them  down,  one  seems  to 
be  drawing  one's  arms  up  toward  the  breast  or  even 
one's  self  to  be  rising  from  the  ground. 

Perception  of  Distant  Bodies  by  Touch. — All  bodies 
which  are  not  in  contact  with  our  own  are  known  in 
terms  of  touch  only  as  their  appearance  excites  the 
images  of  past  perceptions  which  have  come  while 
touching  similar  bodies.  When,  however,  we  are 
measuring  with  the  ej^e  the  distance  to  which  a  stone 
or  ball  must  be  thrown,  or  the  height  of  a  wall  or 
fence  we  wish  to  leap,  or  the  j^robable  weight  of  a 
body  we  design  soon  to  lift,  our  state  of  conscious- 
ness is  strongly  colored  with  the  images  of  past  per- 
ceptions of  the  order  of  skin,  muscles,  and  joint,  as 
well  as  with  sensations  arising  from  the  condition  of 
expectant  use  into  which  these  organs  are  put. 


SMELL,  TASTE,  AND   TOUCH  105 

We  thus  reacli  one  of  the  manj^  cases  where  per- 
ceptions of  the  eye  and  those  of  touch  penetrate  each 
other,  as  it  were,  and  greatly  assist  each  other.  In 
this  assistance  sometimes  the  eye  and  sometimes 
the  organs  of  touch  take  the  lead,  in  suggesting-  the 
appropriate  mental  images.  But  this  consideration 
will  come  before  us  again  after  the  percej)tions  of 
sight  have  been  separately  considered. 


CHAPTEK  YH 

HEAEIKG   AND   SIGHT 

Heaeing  differs  from  both  toTich  and  siglit — be- 
tween wbicli  we  have  placed  it — in  tbat  it  does  not 
afford  any  direct  perception  either  of  the  parts  of 
our  own  bodies  or  of  the  qualities  of  external  things. 

Perceptions  of  Hearing.^ — Our  own  bodies  as  well  as 
bodies  outside  of  them  are  known  by  the  ear  only  in 
an  indirect  way.  Certain  terms  used  with  regard  to 
the  sounds  perceived  do  indeed  imply  that  they  are 
themselves  more  or  less  extended.  Thus  men  speak 
of  "acute"  or  "piercing"  sounds,  and  of  sounds 
more  or  less  "  voluminous  "  and  "  massive."  But  the 
case  here  does  not  seem  to  be  different  from  the  per- 
ception of  ''  heavy  "  odors  or  of  "  sharp  "  tastes  when 
vinegar  or  pepper  is  taken  into  the  mouth.  To  use 
the  latter  example :  the  taste  of  pepper  is  chiefly  the 
perception  of  being  pricked  at  an  indefinite  number 
of  points  on  the  tongue,  while  at  the  same  time  a 
certain  smell  arises  in  the  nostrils.  So,  when  the 
sound  is  very  "  massive,"  as  in  the  case  where  a  door 
is  slammed  or  a  cannon  fired  near  to  the  ear,  one 
feels  as  though  the  side  of  the  head  were  struck  a 
blow^  or  the  whole  jelly-mass  of  the  body  set  vibrat- 
ing. Any  one  who  has  had  his  back  close  to  a  board 
behind  which  a  grand  organ  was  playing  knows  how 


HEAKING   AjSTD   SIGHT  107 

the  whole  body,  both  iuside  and  out,  seems  envel- 
oped in  sound. 

Place  of  Sounds The  direction  in  which,  and  the 

place  from  which,  sounds  are  perceived  are  matters 
of  judgment  and  guessing,  that  are  sometimes  made, 
however,  with  wonderful  promptness  and  accuracy. 
Sometimes,  on  the  contrary,  the  mistakes  made  in 
locating  sounds  are  more  than  equall}^  astonishing. 
Certain  perceptions  of  sound  are  due  to  causes  that 
lie  within  the  body  itself  and  near  to  the  organ  of 
hearing  ;  these  have  already  (p.  36)  been  referred 
to  as  "  entotic  "  sounds.  Thus  one  sometimes  finds 
it  difficult  to  tell  Avhether  the  sounds  one  perceives 
are  to  be  placed  "  in  the  ears,"  as  due  to  a  large 
dose  of  quinine,  or  are  to  be  located  in  a  cricket  on 
the  window-sill.  In  hearing  a  concert,  too,  one  can 
allow  one's  self  for  the  time  being  just  to  float  in  the 
sounds,  or  to  hear  them  as  arising  in  the  very  in- 
terior part  of  the  soul,  and  so  lose  all  thought  of  the 
real,  external  sources  from  Avhich  they  come.  But 
if  one  looks  at  the  players,  then  one  may  perceive 
the  sounds  as  coming  from  them. 

Experiments  have  been  made  to  determine  what 
means  the  mind  has  for  placing  the  direction  of 
sounds  and  also  the  degree  of  accuracy  with  which 
they  can  be  located  for  the  different  positions.  One 
observer  found  in  tliis  way  that  the  accuracy  was 
very  much  greater  just  in  front  of  the  head  than  just 
behind  (as  G°  to  1°) ;  and  also  directly  opposite  each 
ear,  and  directly  above  and  Inlow  ilic  middh^  of  the 
head.    As  to  direction,  we  ordinarily  i)lace  a  sound  ou 


108  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

tlie  side  of  us  on  which  it  is  most  intensely  heard ;  and 
if  both  sides  are  equally  intense,  then  in  the  middle 
place.  When  both  ears  are  used  and  the  head  is 
moved  freely  about,  the  direction  in  which  sounds 
are  perceived  seems  to  depend  upon  the  changes 
caused  in  the  different  intensities  of  the  sensations 
in  the  two  ears.  If  a  current  from  a  telephone  is 
made  to  pass  through  both  ears,  a  tone  may  be  per- 
ceived in  the  middle  of  one's  head.  On  the  whole, 
however,  all  the  means  which  the  mind  has  at  its 
disposal  for  perceiving  the  place  and  direction  of 
sounds  are  not  yet  understood. 

Qualities  of  Bodies  by  Sound.— All  perception  of 
what  bodies  are,  which  comes  through  the  cars,  is 
indirect,  and  has  to  be  interpreted  into  terms  of 
touch  and  sight.  Thus,  one  box  is  called  "  hollow  " 
and  another  "full,"  one  substance  "solid,"  like 
painted  marble,  and  another  "  light,"  like  wood  of 
the  same  color  as  the  marble ;  because  when  we  rap 
upon  them  the  sounds  perceived  resemble  those 
which  experience  has  previously  taught  us  proceed 
from  bodies  that  have  these  qualities  as  known  to 
sight  or  to  touch.  So,  too,  when  we  say  that  we 
"hear"  this  or  that  thing  approaching  or  receding, 
or  "hear  "  somebody  uttering  such  a  cry,  or  "hear  " 
this  event  happening  (like  the  popping  of  a  cork,  or 
the  crackling  of  glass,  or  the  exploding  of  gunpow- 
der), we  are  really  making  a  very  complex  appeal 
to  our  past  experience  with  things  as  known  by 
sight  and  touch. 

The  one  principle  applying  to  this  class  of  per- 


HEARING   AND   SIGHT  109 

ceptions  may  be  stated  as  follows :  It  is  hy  means  of 
sensations  of  the  muscles  and  skin  (inelnding-,  of 
course,  the  internal  parts  of  the  ear — "  semi-circular 
canals,"  etc.)  that  we  perceive  the  place  and  direction 
of  sounds,  in  a  space  already  constructed  by  the  eye, 
tnusclcs,  and  skin. 

Perceptions  of  Sight. — If  the  e3"es  are  turned  upon 
a  landscape,  a  little  world  of  objects,  all  having- 
not  only  color,  but  also  shape,  size,  and  distance, 
and  standing-  in  various  relations  of  space  to  each 
other,  is  at  once  made  known  to  us.  It  has  already 
been  said  (p.  91f.)  that  this  work  of  perception  is 
reall}"  not  instantaneous ;  and  also  that  the  ability 
to  perform  the  act  of  perception  is  the  result  of  a 
development  of  various  powers.  But  all  the  more 
difficult  do  these  facts  make  the  study  of  precisely 
how  this  wonderful  result  is  broug-ht  about.  This 
difficulty  does  not,  however,  make  any  less  certain 
the  general  principle  that  perception  loith  the  eyes, 
like  every  form  of  mental  life,  is  a  process  in  time, 
and  requires  mental  activity  and  mental  development. 

Means  for  Visual  Perception. — The  means  (some- 
times called  "  data  ")  which  are  at  the  command  of 
the  mind,  so  to  speak,  for  perceiving-  by  the  eyes 
the  qualities  and  relations  of  things,  are  very  nu- 
merous. The  scienc3  of  psychology  is  not  yet  sure 
that  it  understands  them  all.  Some  of  them  are  in- 
dispensable for  any  true  visual  perception  what- 
ever; and  others  of  tliem  may  be  regarded  as  only 
assisting  in  the  easier  nud  mori;  correct  percei)li()n 
of   spatial  qualities   and  si)atial  relations.     Among 


110  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

such  means  the  following  are  probably  the  most 
elementary  :  (1)  The  sensations  of  light  and  color 
which  vary  in  quality  and  intensity,  and  which  de- 
pend, partly,  upon  the  place  of  the  retina  where 
they  are  excited ;  (2)  sensations  of  the  skin  and  mus- 
cles due  to  movement  of  the  eyes  ;  (3)  sensations 
due  to  what  is  called  "  accommodation  "  of  the  eye 
— that  is,  the  adjustment  of  the  lens  for  nearer  or 
more  remote  distances  :  with  these  always  go  (4) 
associated  images  of  past  sensations  of  all  these 
three  kinds  ;  and  (5)  accompanying  feelings,  and 
perhaps  felt  activities  of  will. 

But  the  fact  that  we  have  two  eyes,  and  make  use 
of  both  in  seeing  single  objects,  and  the  fact  that 
various  "secondary  signs"  (to  be  spoken  of  later) 
enter  into  almost  all  our  vision,  complicates  further 
the  study  of  this  subject.  In  order,  therefore,  to 
consider  it  by  passing  from  what  seems  simpler  to 
what  is  more  difficult  and  complex,  the  whole  mat- 
ter may  be  taken  up  in  the  following  way :  (1)  The 
conditions  for  forming  a  visual  image  on  the  single 
eye  when  at  rest,  and  the  effect  upon  this  image  of 
the  eye's  movement ;  (2)  the  effect  of  the  action  of  the 
two  eyes  together ;  and  (3)  the  effect  of  other  experi- 
ences which  are  partly  dependent  upon  the  exercise 
of  the  mind  previously  in  perceptions  of  other  kinds. 

If  all  this  seems  rather  complicated  as  a  matter 
of  science,  the  wonderful  speed,  completeness,  and 
delicacy  with  which  the  eye  masters  its  work  must 
be  remembered.  It  is  the  world  of  things  as  we  see 
them,  which  is  so  varied  and  full  of  interest  and  of 


HEAIIING   AND   SIGHT  111 

different  objects,  for  perception.  If  the  blind  man's 
world  of  tlionght  and  of  moral  and  religious  feeling- 
is  essentially  like  ours,  how  vastly  different  and 
poorer  is  his  world  of  perception! 

Two  Principles  of  Visual  Perception.— In  all  that  is 
to  be  said  regarding  the  perception  of  things  by  the 
eye,  two  principles  must  constantly  be  kept  in 
mind.  Perception  hy  isifj/U  is,  like  every  form  of  men- 
tal life,  a  true  process  hi  tune,  and  requires  mental  ac- 
tivity. But,  h\ri\ie.r,perceptio7i  hy  sight  is  always  an  in- 
terpretation of  siyns,  that  are  very  complex  and  whose 
meaning  often  admits  of  being  understood  in  sev- 
eral different  ways.  Under  this  last  principle,  as  we 
shall  see,  things  "  look"  very  differently,  according 
to  the  point  of  view,  the  condition  of  the  bodilj^  or- 
gans, and  even  according  to  our  feelings,  desires, 
and  attitudes  of  will  toward  them. 

Formation  of  a  Visual  Imag^e.-  It  has  already  been 
seen  (p.  38f.)  that  the  eye  is,  in  important  respects, 
like  the  instrument  which  the  photographer  uses  to 
secure  an  "  image  "  of  the  person  whose  picture  he 
is  taking,  upon  a  plate  rendered  especially  sensitive 
by  chemical  means.  The  details  of  how  the  physical 
image  is  formed  upon  the  human  eye  will  be  h.'ft 
for  books  on  physiology  to  tell.  It  would  be  a  fatal 
mistake  to  all  true  understanding  of  the  subject, 
however,  to  suppose  that  the  mind,  in  visual  percep- 
tion, somehow  reads  off,  as  it  were,  this  image  u))on 
the  retina;  or  even  that  some  image  corresponding 
to  the  image  on  tin'  r<tiii;i  is  transmitted  to  tli<'  l»rain. 
The  mind  knows  nothing  about  any  image  on  the  re- 


112  PRIMER   OF   PSYCIIOLoaY 

tina  ;  and  there  is  no  imag-e  in  the  brain  which  is  in 
any  respect  a  copy  of  the  image  on  the  retina.  If  is 
the  sensations,  considered  as  mod i^ficat ions  of  our  con- 
sciousness (see  p.  32f.),  with  their  differejit  mixtures  of 
quality  and  intensity,  which  are  produced  by  the 
changes  in  the  brain,  that  constitide  the  "  stuff  " — so 
to  speak — of  our  visual  perceptions.  These  sensa- 
tions are  "  fused  "  with  one  another,  and  with  the 
memory  images  of  past  sensations,  in  an  almost  infi- 
nite variety  of  ways. 

Phiinly  one  can  never,  now  that  one  has  grown  up 
in  the  use  of  the  organ  of  vision,  put  one's  self 
back  into  an  infantile  condition,  and  so  experience 
anew  how  "  things  looked  "  to  one  then.  For,  so  far 
as  anything  can  be  determined  about  the  matter — 
properly  speaking— things  did  not  look  at  all  to  us 
then.  The  nearest  we  can  get  to  a  study  of  such 
visual  perceptions  as  might  be  supposed  to  arise 
with  the  use  of  one  eye  at  rest  is  to  consider  the 
"color-mass"  which  appears  before  us,  when  our 
"eyes  are  closed  in  a  darkened  room.  But  it  can 
easily  be  proved  that  even  this  color-mass  involves 
the  activity  of  both  eyes  and  the  influence  of  count- 
less experiences  with  them  both,  when  open  and 
wdien  in  motion.  For,  if  now  we  open  one  of  our 
eyes,  with  it  we  can  (but  only  if  we  move  it)  seem 
to  look  at  the  color-mass  still  remaining  and  be- 
longing to  the  closed  eye.  But  even  while  both 
eyes  are  closed,  we  cannot  perceive  clearly  any 
particular  portion  of  this  color-mass  without  mov- 
ing our  eyes  in  the  direction  of  that  i^ortion ;  and 


HEARING   AND   SIGHT  113 

we  cannot  lift  tlie  whole  color-mass  toward  the 
ceiliug",  or  depress  it  toward  the  floor,  without 
bending  the  eyes  and  even  the  head  in  these  same 
directions. 

Effects  of  Moving  the  Eye. — What  has  just  been  said 
shows  the  influence  of  moving  the  eye,  and  even  the 
head,  upon  all  our  visual  perceptions.  Indeed  it  may 
well  be  doubted — although  it  is  dithcult  to  prove  an 
opinion — whether  any  perception  by  the  eye  would 
be  possible  without  its  movement.  From  the  earli- 
est infancy  the  eye,  while  open,  is  almost  never  for 
an  instant  completely  at  rest.  It  is  moving  almost 
ceaselessly,  during  life,  in  all  the  waking  hours. 
The  reasons  for  this  are,  in  part,  the  following :  It 
is  only  when  it  falls  upon  a  small  spot  at  the  cen- 
ter of  the  retina  that  the  image  of  any  object  is 
clear.  Objects  whose  images  fall  outside  of  this 
spot  are  seen  only  in  "  indirect  vision  ;  "  they  are 
not  clearly  perceived.  There  is  therefore  a  nearly 
irresistible  tendency  to  get  the  image  of  any  object, 
which  we  wish  to  perceive  clearly,  to  fall  upon  this 
spot  (that  is,  to  "  fixate  "  it) ;  and  in  order  to  do  this 
the  e.ye  must  itself  move.  It  is  thus  that  the  eyes 
of  even  very  young  childrcni  follow  every  object 
which  "  attracts  "  or  "  draws  "  them.  This  movement 
is  accomplished,  in  every  i^ossible  direction,  by  the 
pull  of  six  muscles  (or  three  pairs)  that  lie  in  llie 
socket  of  the  eye.  The  muscular  sensations  wliich 
result  in  this  way  have  thus,  from  the  very  begin- 
ning of  experience,  been  connectiul  with  all  our  use 
of  the  eye.     It  is  found  l)y  actual  expciiment  that 


114  PRIMER  OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

the  ej^e  is  almost  incrediblj^  sensitive  to  its  own 
movement. 

Accommodation  of  the  Eye. — It  has  already  been 
said  (p.  38)  that  the  lens  of  the  eye,  nulike  that  which 
the  photographer  uses,  has  the  power  of  altering  it- 
self so  as  to  be  fitted,  as  is  required,  for  nearer  or  for 
more  remote  distances.  This  alteration  of  the  lens 
is  accomplished  by  a  rather  complicated  nervous 
and  muscular  apparatus,  whose  nature  is  not  as  yet 
fully  understood.  The  effect  of  these  changes  is 
to  produce  a  certain  feeling  which  indicates  to  the 
mind,  as  it  were,  the  position  and  size  of  its  visual 
objects.  The  value  of  this  feeling  is  greatest  for 
near  objects  ;  for  objects  that  are  twenty  or  more 
feet  distant  it  amounts  to  little  or  nothing.  We 
know  by  experiment  that,  when  the  muscles  of  ac- 
commodation are  paralyzed,  and  so  we  have  to  make 
much  more  effort  to  accommodate  for  the  same  near 
distance,  the  object  may  appear  nearer  than  it  really 
is,  and  so  diminished  in  size. 

The  Visual  Object. — By  a  great  and  constantlj^  in- 
creasing amount  of  evidence,  into  the  details  of  which 
we  cannot  go,  this  conclusion  is  proved :  Evei'ij  ex- 
tended visual  object  is  perceived,  as  it  is  perceived,  in 
dependence,  not  only  upon  sensations  of  light  and  color' 
which  are  due  to  excitement  of  the  retina,  Imt  also  upon 
sensations  of  nfiotion  and  upon  memory -images  of  past 
movements,  which  are  fused  with  the  sensations  of  light 
and  color. 

The  Field  of  Vision. — When  the  eyes  are  opened,  a 
larger  ov  smaller  number  of  objects  is  seen,  which 


IIEAUIXG    AND    SIGHT  115 

all  at  once  appear  to  stand  tog-ether  in  certain  rela- 
tions of  space  to  each  other  ;  and  each  one,  in  itself 
considered,  to  have  a  certain  size,  shape,  and  distance 
from  us.  This  experience,  regarded  as  a  whole,  may- 
be called  the  formation  of  the  "  field  t)f  vision."  In 
this  sense  of  the  words,  the  field  of  vision  is  as  varied 
as  all  that  we  see,  at  all  the  various  times  in  our  use 
of  the  org-ans  of  sight.  It  could  be  shown,  however, 
that  in  perceiving  the  details  of  every  such  field,  we 
are  accustomed  to  run  the  eye  over  it,  and  thus  to 
master  these  details.  The  effects  of  all  this  experi- 
ence of  motion  in  the  construction  of  the  dilierent 
fields  of  vision  in  the  past  make  themselves  in- 
stantly felt  in  every  new  experience,  even  when  this 
is  gained  with  a  more  nearly  or  quite  motionless 
e\'e.  Thus  we  seem  compelled  to  believe,  with  re- 
spect to  the  Avhole  field  of  vision,  what  Ave  have  just 
said  seems  to  be  true  of  every  visual  object.  Every 
"afield  of  visio77,"  as  well  as  every  object  in  every  field, 
depends  for  its  perceived  qualities  and  rehitions  in 
space  upon  past  esrjjei'ience  of  the  inuscular  and  other 
sensations  helonging  to  movement  ofihe  eye. 

The  truth  of  both  these  statements  becomes  clearer 
when  we  consider  i\\o  use  of  both  eyes. 

Images  of  the  Two  Eyes.— Since  there  ure  two  eyes, 
there  are,  of  course,  two  retinal  images  formed  for 
every  single  ol)ject — one  for  each  eye.  How,  then, 
can  the  object  be  perceived  as  single  ?  Now,  this 
question  really  has  no  such  meaning  as  it  at  first  ap- 
pears to  have,  just  so  scxni  us  it  is  understood  that 
the    mind    knows   nothing    directly    of    the   retinal 


116  PRIMER   OF   PSYCTTOLOGY 

images,  whether  they  are  one  or  two,  right-side  up 
or  wrong- side  up  ;  or  whatever  their  shape  and  po- 
sition may  be.  The  fact  is  that  two  hnages  are  help- 
ful, if  not  necessary,  in  order  that  one  solid  and  real 
ohject  may  be  perceived.  If,  now,  seeing  with  two 
eyes  be  called  "binocular  vision,"  and  if  seeing 
things  solid  and  extended  in  the  third  dimension  of 
space  be  called  "  stereoscopic  vision,"  then  binocu- 
lar vision  is  naturally  stereoscopic  vision. 

That  there  are  two  visual  images,  any  one  may 
show  to  one's  self.  Hold  the  finger  up  against  the 
sky  and  look  steadily  at  the  sky  beyond  it,  and  two 
transparent  images  of  a  finger  will  be  seen  instead 
of  one  solid  finger.  Look  at  any  not  too  large  ob- 
ject, and  press  one  eyeball  gently  aside  with  the 
finger  ;  in  this  way  you  can  "uncouple  "  the  images 
of  any  object.  Many  persons  accustomed  to  experi- 
ment with  themselves  readily  acquire  the  power  to 
see  things  either  single  and  solid  or  double  and  shad- 
owy, at  will ;  they  can  also  slip  one  set  of  images  of 
an  entire  section  of  some  small  and  regular  pattern 
(as  of  carpet,  or  wall-paper,  or  wire-grating)  by  its 
proper  "  double  ; "  and  can  then  unite  it,  with  the 
double  of  another  section,  into  a  solid  object. 

For,  of  course,  the  reverse  of  the  process  of  "un- 
coupling" the  two  images  is  the  uniting  of  them 
into  one  object.  For  this  purpose  most  x)ersons  re- 
quire some  help  in  the  shape  of  a  stereoscope.  With 
this  instrument  any  one  can  study  the  startling  ef- 
fects of  putting  together  two  more  or  less  unlike  and 
flat  images.     Thus  all  kinds  of  solids  can  be  formed  ; 


HEARING   AND   SIGHT  117 

one  can  be  made  to  look  into  a  funnel  or  to  perceive 
its  small  end  turned  toward  one  ;  and  by  uniting"  a 
right-eyed  imag'e  of  some  cube  in  outline  which  is 
white,  with  a  lefi-eyed  image  of  a  similar  cube  in 
black,  one  can  be  made  to  g-aze  into  the  transparent 
depths  of  a  crystal. 

Movement  of  the  Two  Eyes.— lu  all  natural  use  of 
both  eyes,  they  move  in  certain  relations  to  each 
other,  so  as  to  act  as  one  organ  and  yet  with  a  great 
variety  of  changes  in  the  details  of  their  relations. 
This  movement  is  called  "  binocular  movement ; " 
and,  under  all  ordinary  circumstances,  the  two  eyes 
either  (1)  move  parallel,  when  they  turn  equally  in 
the  same  direction  ;  or  (2)  they  converg-e,  when  they 
rotate  on  their  axes  in  different  directions.  Thus 
they  can  move  right  or  left  together,  up  or  down  to- 
gether ;  and  they  can  converge  either  in  a  symmet- 
rical or  in  a  non-symmetrical  way.  These  different 
movements  result  in  the  production  of  a  great  vari- 
ety of  sensations  of  motion,  of  strain,  and  of  po- 
sition ;  and  in  connection  with  the  changes  of  accom- 
modation which  the  lenses  undergo,  as  the  distance 
of  the  objects  looked  at  varies,  and  with  the  coupl- 
ing- and  uncoupling  of  the  double  iraag-es,  they  fur- 
nish that  indescribable  multitude  of  experiences  on 
which  the  development  of  perception  with  the  eyes 
depends. 

In  one  word,  then,  the  field  of  vision  in  ivhich  solid 
ohjects  appear  as  related  to  each  other  in  space  is  due  to 
an  activity  loitlt  both  eyes,  in  ivhich  varyi/u/  "  local 
si<pi.s'^  of  the  retina  (see  p.  50)  ore  rovi.hined  with  raria- 


118  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

tions  in  ilte  muscular  and  other  sensations  due  to  the 
eyes  being  moved  together. 

Instantaneous  Vision. — When  the  field  of  visiou  is 
seen  as  lig-hted  by  an  electric  flash  (that  is,  too 
briefly  for  movement  of  the  eyes  to  take  place),  or 
when  it  is  seen  with  only  one  eye,  whether  in  rest  or 
in  motion,  the  objects  in  it  appear  extended  and 
solid  and  all  in  their  proper  relations  in  space.  In 
such  cases,  however,  it  would  seem  that  these  per- 
ceptions are  i:)ossible  because  of  previous  experience 
with  both  eyes  in  motion.  Such  instantaneous  vision 
is  ordinarily  less  perfect;  it  involves  less  mental 
relating  and  discriminating- ;  it  is  more  dependent 
upon  memory-images,  and  more  like  that  producible 
by  flat  surfaces  skilfully  colored.  And,  indeed,  the 
means  of  "  deception  "  and  "  illusion  "  which  art  em- 
ploys in  presenting  its  objects  to  the  eye  enter  very 
largely  into  this,  as  they  do  into  all  vision. 

Secondary  Helps  to  Vision — There  are  many  con- 
siderations on  which  the  mind  relies  in  its  perception 
of  objects  that  are  not  so  invariable  as  those  already 
considered,  but  that  are  none  the  less,  as  a  rule,  present 
and  effective  in  all  ordinary  vision.  These  are  some- 
times, on  this  account,  called  by  the  title  "  secondary 
helps."  We  now  mention  several  of  the  most  impor- 
tant. (1)  The  way  the  lines  run  which  limit  the  ob- 
ject often  determines  how  the  object  shall  be  seen. 
Lines  that  cover  other  lines  must  be  seen  nearer,  of 
course.  Hence,  when  we  have  a  system  of  lines  that 
admit  of  more  than  one  interpretation,  the  object  may 
be  perceived  in  one  or  more  different  ways.     (2)  The 


HEAPvIXCJ   AXD    ?roHT  Hi) 

size  of  the  angle  covered  by  any  object  influences  the 
distance  at  which  the  object  shall  be  perceived.  The 
nearer  together  the  parallel  rails  of  a  track  appear  the 
more  distant  they  appear.  (3)  Atmosphere  and  the 
size  and  direction  of  the  shadows  are  also  of  influence. 
Travellers  in  Colorado  know  how  near  objects  appear 
there,  on  account  of  the  clearness  of  the  atmosphere. 
Thing's  seen  through  a  fog  are  perceived  very  large, 
because,  appearing  dim,  they  are  perceived  distant ; 
and  then,  since  they  cover  a  large  angle  of  vision, 
they  are  seen  both  distant  and  large.  (4)  The  sur- 
roundings have  also  much  to  do  with  the  apparent 
size  and  distance  of  what  is  seen. 

Influence  of  Sugg-estion  on  Sight — It  might  almost 
be  said  that  all  vision  is  chiefl}'  a  matter  of  sugges- 
tion. This  would  be  in  some  respects  like  saying 
that  all  developed  sight  is  a  matter  of  interpretation 
(see  p.  111).  Thus  the  eye  often  "  catches  at  "  a  few 
meagre  outlines  or  blurred  color-masses,  and  uses 
them  to  suggest  to  the  mind  what  it  shall  perceive. 
All  are  familiar  with  the  attitude  of  expectation  with 
which  people  watch  one  drawing  a  figure  on  a  black- 
board, to  see  precisely  what  it  is  that  he  is  going  to 
make  us  see.  Is  it  a  bird  or  a  bat,  a  man  or  an  ape, 
a  maple  or  an  elm,  etc.  ?  Just  a  stroke  or  two  ap- 
pears to  decide  the  question  and  to  make  the  per- 
ceived reality  start  out,  as  it  were,  in  all  its  fulness 
before  the  mind's  eye.  On  the  other  hand,  hasty  vis- 
ion is  often  inaccurate  vision,  because  the  sugges- 
tion has  "run  away  with  us,"  as  it  were.  In  similar 
fashion   persons  in   the   liypnotic  state  are  almost 


120  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

sure  to  see  anything-  which  it  is  suggested  to  them 
to  see. 

Influence  of  Feeling  on  Sight — What  one  expects 
to  see,  dreads  to  see,  or  confidently  hopes  to  see,  that 
one  is  likely  to  see.  Fear  can  make  the  shapes  of 
the  window-curtain  into  a  human  form  enveloped  in 
a  shroud  ;  and  then,  when  we  have  seen  the  same 
object  with  cool  after-thought  and  inspection,  it  is 
by  no  means  the  same.  No  ;  now  we  cannot  see  it  as 
we  were  forced  to  see  it  just  a  moment  before.  It  is 
the  "believers,"  as  a  rule,  that  see  the  spirits,  and 
the  "unbelievers"  either  see  nothing-  at  all  or  else 
see  something  entirely  different. 

Influence  of  Will  on  Sight. — Within  certain  limits 
— strange  as  it  may  seem — one  can  decide  what  one 
will  see.  By  an  act  of  will  the  man  who  is  skilful 
with  the  microscope  can  exclude  from  the  attention 
the  images  belonging  to  one  eye  ;  in  the  same  w^ay 
one  can  bring  out  in  consciousness  the  parts  of  the 
retinal  field  which  lie  in  "  indirect "  vision.  When, 
in  uniting  two  flat  pictures  by  use  of  a  stereoscope,  a 
conflict  of  outlines  or  of  colors  takes  place,  some  per- 
sons can  decide  the  conflict  by  an  act  of  will,  and  say 
which  outline  or  color  shall  triumph.  It  has  very 
recently  been  discovered  that  a  considerable  number 
of  persons  can  learn  to  control  the  retinal  field  so  as 
to  make  some  simple  figure — like  a  cross  or  a  circle — 
appear  in  it,  by  willing  steadily  that  it  shall  do  so,  for 
some  time  (ten  to  fifteen  minutes).  A  few  can  make  a 
cross  of  some  chosen  color  start  out  almost  immedi- 
ately at  will.      Some  few  also  can  produce  in  the 


HEAKIXG   AND    SIGHT  121 

same  way  sucli  vivid  halhicinations — for  example, 
the  picture  of  a  deceased  or  au  absent  friend — as 
that  the  hallucinations  are  equal  in  intensity  and 
clearness  to  real  perceptions  ;  and  in  rare  cases  will 
even  cover  real  objects  so  that  the  latter  cannot  be 
seen  through  the  object  produced  by  imagination 
and  will. 

Illusions  of  Siglit — What  has  just  been  said  shows 
that  no  fixed  line  can  he  draicn  heticeen  illusions  of 
sight  and  perceptions  of  sight.  There  is  no  reason  in- 
deed, on  grounds  of  sight  only,  to  doubt  the  reality . 
of  most  of  our  visual  perceptions.  The  testimony  of 
others,  and  the  testing  of  the  other  senses,  confirms 
the  conviction  that  sight  has  reported  truly.  But  so 
far  as  sight  goes,  our  perceptions  may  be  just  as 
clear  and  strong  and  yet  not  correspond  to  the  real- 
ity. Errors  or  illusions  of  a  great  variety  of  kinds 
may  be  noticed,  some  of  which  admit  of  easy  ex- 
planation and  some  of  whicli  do  not.  Errors  of  sight 
in  respect  to  size  and  distance  are  common  enough. 
The  size  of  the  sun  or  moon,  for  example,  is  very 
different  for  different  persons,  according  to  the  illu- 
sory place  at  which  they  locate  the  object ;  to  some 
these  l)odies  appear  no  larger  than  an  orange,  but  to 
others  larger  then  a  cart-wheel.  The  size  of  things 
seen  with  tired  or  lamed  muscles  of  the  eye  is  in- 
creased. Tiic  shape  of  things  changes  totally  as 
seen  from  a  difl'ercnit  ))oint  of  view.  A  startling 
example  of  this  is  found  when  wo.  look  down  at  a 
huiiiHii  face,  standing  Itack  of  tin;  lu^ad  when  the 
body  is  l\ing  Hat  on  the  floor;  or  when   we  stand 


122  PllIMEK   OF    rSYClIOLOGY 

on  the  brow  of  a  liill  and  look  at  the  valley  be- 
low with  our  own  head  between  the  leg-s. 

Many  illusions  result  from  the  nature  of  the 
"  environment,"  either  as  seen  or  as  sug-gested.  The 
sides  of  a  triang-le  seem  smaller  than  the  equal 
sides  of  a  square  ;  those  of  a  square  than  those  of  a 
hve-sided  figure,  etc.  To  illustrate  further  :  take 
four  lines  of  equal  length,  and  then  at  each  of  the 
ends  of  one  line  draw  an  obtuse  angle,  of  another 
an  acute  angle,  both  directed  muay  from  the  lines ; 
then  treat  the  other  two  lii^es  in  the  same  way, 
only  directing  the  two  angles  tcncard  the  connecting 
line.  Then  notice  the  effect  on  the  apjDarent 
length  of  the  four  lines. 

Illusions  of  motion  of  various  kinds  abound,  as 
any  one  knows  who  has  travelled  by  cars  and  studied 
his  perceptions  of  sight.  Art,  too,  has  innumerable 
illusions  ;  indeed,  without  illusion  no  art  is  jDOSsible 
which  appeals  to  the  eye.  We  sometimes  complain 
of  this  as  though  we  were  "deceived"  (and  so  had 
some  right  to  complain)  by  art.  But  the  truth  is 
that  the  "  reality "  of  things,  as  they  are  to  our 
visual  perceptions,  is  truly  given  by  art,  and  not 
by  instantaneous  photography  or  as  figured  out  by 
mathematics. 

Thus  we  see  that  the  explanations  of  our  errors 
in  the  use  of  the  senses  are  precisely  the  same  as 
the  explanations  of  our  successes.  For  all  vision  is 
"  interpretation"  and  from  partial  or  mistalien  inter- 
pretation all  degrees  and  kinds  of  illusions  and  errors 
residt. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MEMORY  AND  IMAGINATION 

Merely  having  mental  images  recur  in  conscious- 
ness, under  the  so-called  la^vs  of  association  (see  p. 
84f.),  does  not  amount  to  remembering  or  imagin- 
ing any  particular  thing,  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the 
words, ''  memory  "  and  "  imaginatioii."  Especially  is 
this  true  of  the  former  of  these  two  faculties.  For  a 
full  act  of  memory  must  be  expressed  in  some  such 
way  as  this :  "  I  remember  that  I  (or  he)  did  so  and 
so,  at  such  a  time,  etc.;  "  or  "  I  remember  it  to  have 
happened  thus  at  such  a  date."  Here  it  is  i3lain 
that  some  particular  exi3erience  (the  action  of  my 
own,  or  the  occurrence  of  the  event)  is  placed  iu 
2xi.st  time,  and  is  affirmed  to  belong  to  wy  experience 
— to  me  the  same  person  now  remembering,  who  for- 
merly had  the  experience.  AVhat,  indeed,  could  well 
be  more  absurd  than  to  try  to  conceive  of  one  person 
as  remembering  another's  internal  experience  ;  or  of 
ourselves  as  remembering  what  is  still  in  the  future 
instead  of  what  has  been  in  the  past.  "  Conscious- 
ness of  time,"  and  "  consciouness  of  Self,"  arc  there- 
fore necessary  to  developed  memory. 

Difference  between  Memory  and  Imagination. — No 
litthj  diifi(;ulty  is  sometimes  expericmced  in  doter- 
miiiing  where  genuine  memory  ends  and  imagiuu- 


124  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

tion  beo-iiis.  Tlius  we  often  ask  ourselves  or  inquire 
of  otliers  :  "  How  mucli  of  all  this  are  we  remember- 
ing as  sometliing  wliicli  actuallj'  occurred,  and  liow 
much  merely  imag-ining-?  "  Even  in  the  case  of  the 
most  careful  and  accurate  people,  it  is  sometimes 
impossible  to  decide  such  a  question.  And  proba- 
bly we  have  all  honestly  been  in  doubt  about  our- 
selves :  "  Now,  am  I  really  remembering-  or  only  half 
imagining  that  ?  " 

The  science  of  psj-chology  finds  the  lines  between 
memory  and  imagination  difficult  to  draw  strictly. 
And  yet,  if  extreme  or  even  well-established  cases  of 
each  are  selected  and  compared,  it  is  plain  in  what, 
in  pai"t  at  least,  this  difference  consists.  The  main 
difference  here  seems  to  have  to  do  with  a  sort  of 
"  belief  in  reality."  What  we  certainly  remember  is 
what  we  once  knew  really  to  exist,  or  actually  to 
occur ;  whereas,  what  we  imagine,  we  somehow  ex- 
empt from  any  such  obligation  to  reality.  But 
nothing  "  has  really  been,"  or  "  has  really  occurred," 
except  in  the  past — as  indeed  the  very  tense  of  the 
words  signifies.  Any  number  of  beings,  or  of 
events,  can  be  imagined,  however,  as  possibly  having 
[happened  in  the  past,  or  as  possibly  now  existing 
or  happening,  or  as  going  to  exist  or  to  haj3pen  in 
the  future.  For  imagination  is  not  bound,  as  memory 
is,  to  the  past. 

Hence  there  is  a  peculiar  kind  of  recognition  which 
belongs  to  memory.  In  imagination  this  recogni- 
tion is  suppressed,  as  it  were.  Thus,  for  example, 
when  we  meet  a  person  who  seems  somewhat  famil- 


MEMORY    AND    IMAGIXATIOX  125 

iar,  but  we  cannot  tell  precisely  who  it  is,  we  say 
either,  "  I  canuot  quite  remember  you  ;"  or,  "  I  am 
not  sure  that  I  recog-nize  you."  Recognition  there- 
fore enters  into  complete  memor\' ;  but  it  is  not  all 
there  is  of  memor\'.  For  we  also  say  of  the  friend 
that  passes  us  by  on  the  street  without  perceiving* 
who  wo  are  (here  there  is  no  question  of  failure  of 
memory) :  "  You  did  not  recognize  me."  .  Eecognition 
then  enters  into  complete  perception  also  ;  and  this 
shows  that,  often  at  least,  perception  involves  a  cer- 
tain kind  of  memory.  When,  on  the  contrary,  we 
picture  to  ourselves  some  scene  in  history  about 
which  we  have  been  reading,  or  build  our  castles  in 
the  air,  and  place  ourselves  as  very  rich  and  quite 
happy  in  them,  we  do  not  emplo}^  recognition  in  the 
same  way.  We  cannot  recognize  the  scene  in  his- 
tory, because  it  is  not  represented  as  belonging- 
to  our  past ;  we  cannot  recognize  ourselves  \\\  the 
charming  pictures  of  reverie,  because  thej'  lack  the 
reality  of  that  which  is  recognized  as  actually  exist- 
ing in  thf  past. 

Thought  and  Memory. — These  two  faculties  are  in- 
deed necessary  to  complete  each  other ;  but  they 
are  not  the  same  activities  of  mind.  So  we  bid  our- 
selves or  others  :  "  Tli'xnk  and  see  if  you  cannot  re- 
member ;"  "  Tbinh  and  remember  more  clearly  and 
fully."  Tliinking  is  thus  used  to  recall,  to  clear  up 
and  complete,  and  also  to  verify  the  memory  picture. 
And  thinking  is  plainly  also  necessary  to  any  elab- 
orate use  of  the  imagination.  To  \)o,  sure,  much  of 
the  most  beautiful  work  of  imagination  comes,  as  it 


126  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

is  said,  "  without  the  effort  of  thought."  And  little 
good  poetry  indeed  is  produced  by  trying-,  as  did 
the  old  woman  in  one  of  the  Dutch  novels,  who  sat 
down  with  pen  and  paper,  determined  to  make 
verses ;  and  sat  there  and  sweat  hard  without  bring-- 
ing-  anything  to  pass.  But  here  it  is  not,  properly 
speaking,  the  absence  of  thought  which  is  empha- 
sized in  the  activity  of  imagination,  but  the  absence 
of  eflbrt  to  think.  Yet  this  "  plaj^  "  (or  work)  of  imag- 
ination, although  requiring  thought,  is  very  different 
from  the  "  work  "  (sometimes  seeming  like  play)  of 
the  thinker  over  a  hard  problem  in  mathematics  or 
philosophy.  All  this,  however,  will  be  better  under- 
stood later  on. 

Thinking,  remcriiberhig,  and  imaginhig  are  then  all 
of  them  de^yendent  upon  reproductive  and  representative 
faculty,  hut  in  different  icays  and  different  degrees. 

Stages  of  Memory — It  is  customary  to  say  that 
there  are  three  stages  or  processes  in  memory  :  and 
these  are  (1)  retention  ;  (2)  reproduction ;  and  (3) 
recognition.  The  figure  of  speech  which  invites 
such  a  form  of  statement  is  perfectly  plain.  Past 
experiences — the  objects  perceived,  or  imagined,  or 
thought — are  considered  as  having  a  sort  of  exist- 
ence apart  from  the  conscious  activity  of  the  mind, 
as  it  were  ;  and  the  mind  is  considered  as  though  it 
were  a  sort  of  receptacle  or  chamber  in  which  they 
can  be  "  stored  "  or  retained.  Thence  are  they  re- 
produced or  recalled,  either  by  our  own  choice  and 
with  some  practical  end  to  be  gained  ;  or  else  they 
get  "suggested"  by  some  current  experience,  and 


MEMORY   AND   IMAGINATION  127 

SO  arise  agaiu  iuvolimtaril}'  witliiu  the  conscious 
mind.  Psychology  has  been  defined  as  the  science 
of  the  states  of  consciousness,  as  such  (p.  7).  Now, 
the  only  fact  of  consciousness  here  immediately  con- 
cerned is  this  :  We  remember.  But  what  we  re- 
member is  direct!}'  known  as  belonging-  to  our  past ; 
and  why  we  remember  this  rather  than  something 
else  is  also  indirectly  known  to  depend  on  the  power 
of  the  association  of  ideas. 

Memory  as  Retention. — When  facts  or  thoughts  are 
spoken  of  as  "  stored  "  away  in  the  mind,  or  one 
person  rather  than  another  is  said  to  have  "  vast 
stores  of  memory,"  a  convenient  but  misleading  fig- 
ure of  speech  is  used.  Objects  of  past  perceptions, 
whether  with  eye  or  hand  or  whatever  sense,  and 
ideas  produced  by  imagination  and  tliought  in  the 
l")ast,  are  not  real  existences.  When  the  mind  ceases 
actually  ijerceiving,  imagining,  thinking,  the  percep- 
tions, images,  thoughts  cease  to  be.  Neither  is  the 
mind  to  be  considered  like  a  chamber  or  garret  in 
which  cast-off  garments  and  disused  furniture  may  be 
stored  for  future  possible  use.  Retention,  then,  as  a 
mental  faculty,  is  a  pure  fiction.  But  reproduction 
and  recognition  are  actual  mental  processes,  real  and 
living  activities  of  mind.  Likt^  all  other  processes 
and  activities,  tliey  have  certain  conditions  which 
require  to  be  known.  And  it  is  this  wliich  causes  a 
resort  to  the  fiction  of  retention. 

Conditions  of  Retentive  Memory — These  are  ]i;irny 
physiologicul,  and  have  to  do  witli  the  condition  and 
action  of  th<;  tissues  of  the  brain  ;  and  they  are  i)artly 


128  PEIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

mental,  and  have  to  do  with  the  activities  involved 
in  acquiring-  or  recalling  or  recognizing-  i^ast  exj)eri- 
ences.  No  other  mental  faculty  is  so  obviousl}^ 
dependent  upon  bodily  conditions  as  the  memory. 
In  the  first  place,  it  would  seem  as  though  the  faculty 
Avere  not  v.ell  established  earlier  than  from  five  to 
seven  years  of  ago.  Children  who  become  blind 
earlier  than  this  period  have  in  after  years  little  or 
no  memory  of  what  they  saw  in  infancy.  In  old  age 
failure  of  memory  is  one  of  the  things  about  which 
comx)laint  is  most  frequently  made.  The  results  of 
loss  of  memory  through  the  effects  of  fevers  upon 
the  brain  are  extremely  curious.  We  hear  of  one 
man  who,  in  this  way,  lost  all  memory  of  the  letter 
F.  Sound  and  well-nourished  brain-tissues,  with  a 
constant  supply  of  jDure  blood,  are  plainly  to  a  high 
degree  the  necessar}^  phj^siological  conditions  of 
retentive  memory. 

It  is  in  general  interested  attention  lohich  is  theprm- 
ci2')al  mental  co7idition  of  retentive  memory.  What  we 
attend  to,  that  we  remember  most  tenaciously ;  that  is 
most  apt  to  "cling"  in  the  memory.  Yet,  in  spite 
of  this  rule,  there  are  not  a  few  instances  of  trivial 
and  worthless  things,  to  which  little  attention  has 
been  given,  getting  "  stuck  fast  "  in  memory  ;  while 
things  which  one  has  been  interested  to  learn,  and 
has  attended  closely  to  for  the  purpose  of  learning 
them,  keep  "  slipping "  quite  away.  In  man\^  of 
these  cases,  however,  it  appears  that  such  trifles 
happen  at  first  to  strike  the  mind  forcibly  because 
of  their  connection  with  things  that  were  interesting ; 


MEMORY   AND    IMAGINATION  129 

or  because  tliey  occurred  wlieu  the  mind  was  in  a 
condition  of  aroused  and  receptive  consciousness. 
But  especially  does  the  way  in  which  any  new  ex- 
perience "  fits  in,"  as  it  were,  with  the  whole  apti- 
tude and  habit  of  mind  determine  whether  it  will  be 
retained  or  not.  A  boy,  who  cannot  possibly  remem- 
ber over  night  a  short  lesson  in  geography,  can  re- 
member for  months  all  the  details  of  a  base-ball 
game.  Here  both  interest  and  attention,  on  the  one 
hand,  and  aptitude  and  habit,  on  the  other  hand,  are 
favorable  to  retention. 

Memory  as  Reproduction — The  principles  under 
which  mental  images  recur  in  consciousness  have  al- 
ready been  discussed  (p.  79f.).  But,  plainly,  some- 
thing that  is  broader  and  deeper  than  this  is  needed 
to  give  insight  into  the  working  of  memory.  One 
writer  has  said,  in  a  poetical  way  which  suggests 
much  truth :  "  Every  case  of  memory  is  a  case  of 
sympath3^"  That  is,  whatever  I  remember  is  my 
own,  not  only  because  I  have  experienced  it,  and 
can  remember  only  my  own  experience,  but  also  be- 
cause I  recall  it  at  this  time  in  accordance  with  all 
my  mental  characteristics,  in  full  "  sympathy  "  with 
the  mental  being  that  I  (and  no  one  else)  am. 

Among  the  considerations  which  fix  limits  to 
memory  and  determine  what  shall  be  the  sugges- 
tiniis  tliat  guide  the  thoughts  of  the  past  are  those 
belonging  to  the  race,  or  to  the  social  set,  or  to  the 
profession,  etc.  AVhen  the  memories  suggested  by 
the  surroundings  seem  quite  out  of  liarmouy  witli 
the  surroundings  themselves,  the  whole  mental  life 
9 


130  PIIIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

may  be  much  disturbed.  In  a  foreign  land,  wliere 
ever3'thing-  is  so  totally  different  from  that  to  which 
one  has  been  accustomed  (Japan,  for  example),  one 
may  almost  doubt  whether  one  is  now  dreaming-  or 
whether  what  one  remembers  of  one's  owm  past  is 
not  mere  dreaming.  How  must  the  memories  of  the 
wealthy  and  once  honored  criminal  be  confused  by 
the  surroundings  of  his  felon's  cell  and  his  coarse 
food  and  prison-garb  !  Language,  too,  Avhich  we  all 
find  ready-made  for  us  by  the  developed  culture  of 
the  race,  marks  out  certain  lines  in  which  suggestions 
are  obliged  to  operate.  Hence  much  of  our  mem- 
ory becomes  "  word-memory,"  or  memory  of  sym- 
bols of  some  other  kind.  Bodily  and  mental  health 
are  of  the  greatest  influence  here.  Sometimes  the 
pace  of  memory  is  so  rapid  that  its  trusty  character 
is  all  broken  up  ;  sometimes  it  is  so  slow  that  it 
will  not  reproduce  in  recognizable  form  our  past 
experience.  "  Atmosphere,"  or  the  tone  of  our  whole 
l^resent  surroundings  as  in  sympathy  with  our 
present  thoughts  and  feelings,  influences  mental 
reproduction  greatly. 

Memory  as  E-ecoUection. — The  word  "  recollection  " 
is  sometimes  employed  to  describe  such  acts  of  men- 
tal reproduction  as  are  voluntary;  ?/'(j— with  some 
end  set  as  a  purpose  before  us — remember.  In  this 
case  we  often  seem  to  ourselves  to  be  trying  to  "  get 
hold  of"  the  memory -images ;  we  are  seeking  for 
"  clews  "  to  them.  Such  a  process  implies,  of  course, 
that  some  sort  of  memory  has  already  taken  jilace  ; 
for  one  cannot  try  to  recollect  any  particular  ex- 


MKMOllY    AND   IMAGINATION  lol 

perience  without  knowing-  something-  about  what  it 
is  one  wishes  to  recollect.  In  recollecting-,  then,  one 
is  reall}'  trying-  to  reproduce  more  perfectly  what  has 
already  been,  but  only  partiallj^  and  imperfectly  re- 
produced. Sometimes  such  "  trying- "  is  accompa- 
nied bj'"  a  painful  sense  of  mental  effort  and  even  by 
marked  pains  of  body  ;  and  this  shows  the  exhaust- 
ing work  which  the  nervous  system  is  being  called 
upon  to  perform.  Weariness  and  the  feeling  of  con- 
fusion and  of  anguish  are  not  infrequently  produced 
in  this  way.  At  other  times,  however,  in  joyful 
obedience  to  the  will,  the  memory-images  come  be- 
fore us — orderh^,  clear,  and  strong,  and  ready  to  do 
our  bidding-. 

Memory  as  Recognition. — It  has  already  been  shown 
(p.  124f.)  how  necessary  recognition  is  to  the  fullest 
and  highest  use  of  the  faculty  of  memor3\  This  has 
sometimes  —  and  very  properly  —  been  called  the 
"spiritual"  activity  in  memory.  And,  indeed,  it 
seems  to  indicate  a  behavior  of  the  mind  that  cannot 
be  accounted  for  as  in  any  way  parallel  with  the  phys- 
ical conditions  of  memory,  whether  considered  as  re- 
tentive or  as  reproductive,  /recognize  this  as  mine, 
as  belonging  to  my  jiast.  The  past  is  really  gone 
and  never  can  return  ;  this  experience  of  memory  is 
not  like  the  original  experience  which  it  represents, 
as  we  say.  For  example:  I  saw  my  friend,  who  is 
now  dead,  a  year  or  ten  years  ago  ;  I  rememl)er  him 
distinctly  now.  I  l<iif>w  him  by  perception  then  ;  I 
know  him  by  memory  Jiow.  In  some  sort,  lie  is  tlio 
same  as  known  in  tlnsc  two  w;iys  ;  and  I,  who  now 


132  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

remember  Lim,  am  the  same  tliat  once  saw  him.  In 
some  sort,  then,  every  act  of  memory  with  recognition 
transcends  tlie  iwesent,  and  connects  the  present  into  a 
known  real  unity  ivith  the  past.  No  wonder  that  a 
great  philosopher  regarded  this  as  one  of  the  jiro- 
foundest  of  all  mysteries ;  and  yet  every  man  has 
this  experience  ever}^  day  of  his  life. 

Kinds  of  Memory — There  are  as  many  sorts  of 
memory  as  there  are  mental  activities  concerned  in 
knowing  things  to  be  remembered,  or  as  there  are 
classes  of  objects  that  admit  of  being  "  committed  " 
to  memory.  Thus  there  is  a  memory  of  the  eye  and 
a  memory  of  the  ear,  or  a  good  visual  and  a  good 
musical  memory.  There  is  also  a  good  or  a  poor 
memory  of  the  skin,  muscles,  etc. ;  and  a  memory 
for  words,  or  for  abstract  thoughts,  or  for  different 
kinds  of  facts  and  principles.  A  "tenacious  "  mem- 
ory is  one  that  forgets  relatively  little,  although  it 
may  be  either  prompt  and  rapid,  or  slow  and  hesi- 
tating, in  reproducing  what  is  remembered.  A 
"  spontaneous  "  memory  is  one  that  works  easily 
and  rapidly,  with  comparatively  little  excitement 
or  "  prodding,"  as  it  were.  Some  men  have  "  pro- 
digious "  memories  ;  and  this  would  seem  to  require 
both  tenacity  of  memory  and  promptness  in  repro- 
ducing. Such  memories  may  be  special,  like  that  of 
the  painter  who  reproduced  from  memory  the  altar- 
piece  of  Eubens,  or  of  the  mathematical  genius  who 
could  remember  a  row  of  188  figures  after  a  few 
glances  at  them  ;  or  else  general,  like  the  memory  of 
Locke  and  Niebuhr,  who  were  popularly  said  never 


MEMORY   AND   IMAGINATION  133 

to  forget  anything-,  wliether  facts  or  principles,  views 
or  feelings,  sights  or  sounds. 

Art  of  Remembering — The  really  best  art  of  remem- 
bering is  to  observe  carefully  the  conditions  of 
memory  ;  that  is,  to  keep  a  sound  and  well-nourished 
brain,  not  to  overstrain  it  in  anj^  waj'^,  and  to  put 
the  attention  earnestly  into  what  it  is  wished  to  re- 
member. Besides  this,  great  art  may  be  exercised 
in  connecting  the  particular  thing  to  be  remem- 
bered with  the  whole  structure  of  our  experience,  as 
it  were.  The  more  "  natural  "  this  connection  is 
the  better  it  is.  But  there  are  many  things,  like 
dates  and  lists  of  names,  etc.,  which  it  is  sometimes 
desirable  to  have  on  call,  for  the  mastery  of  which 
one  may  properly  resort  to  some  of  the  so-called 
"  artificial  "  systems  of  memorizing. 

Good  memory  requires  also  that  we  should,  as  far 
as  possible,  observe  certain  rules  in  "  committing  " 
to  memory.  Some  of  these  rules  can  be  determined 
by  experiment,  such  as  :  (1)  Do  not  undertake  too 
long  tasks  of  memorizing  in  one  effort ;  (2)  try  to 
find  some  meaning  in  what  you  atlemi)t  to  learn  ;  (3) 
repeat  the  early  attempts  at  memorizing  as  frequent- 
ly as  possible  without  excessive  fatigue.  (Hero  re- 
call what  was  said  (p.  7()f.)  about  the  fading  of  the 
moiiiory-imagc.) 

Nature  of  Imagination. — It  lias  been  seen  that  men- 
tal images  associated  under  the  principle  of  conti- 
guity (see  p.  85f.)  are  concerned  in  the  faculties 
Ijoth  of  memory  and  i>\'  imagination.  It  is  the 
absence  of  reality  (see  p.  121),  and  of  recognition,  as 


134  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

belong-ing  to  the  past  of  one's  self,  which,  in  part, 
distinguishes  imagination  from  memory.  But  the 
other  side  of  this  difference  is  that  imagination  is 
not  bound  by  facts  or  within  actual  time  past,  as 
memory  is.  Hence  the  wonderful  impression  of 
"  freedom,'"  which  belongs  to  the  higher  activities  of 
the  imagination.  The  man  without  imagination  has 
been  said  to  be  related  to  the  man  gifted  with  it,  as 
"  the  mussel  fastened  to  its  rock,  that  must  wait  for 
what  chance  may  bring  it,  is  related  to  the  animal 
that  moves  freely  or  even  has  wings."  Yet,  as  we 
shall  now  see,  imagination  gets  all  its  materials 
from  actual  past  expteriences,  while  it  passes  far  be- 
yond all  possible  experience  of  what  is  actual,  in  the 
form  into  which  it  puts  its  materials ;  and  it  never 
operates  independently  of  all  conditions.  Such 
operation  would  indeed  not  be  "  freedom,"  but  dis- 
order ;  and  the  result  would  be  the  unintelligible. 

Conditions  of  Imagination Since  all  imagination 

involves  reproduction  in  the  form  of  mental  images, 
the  conditions  of  mental  reproduction  belong  to  all 
Imagination.  The  most  highly  "  creative  genius  " 
creates  only  as  he  also  rejyroduces.  Let  it  be  supposed 
that  one  is  asked  to  imagine  a  line  extended  indefi- 
nitely ;  or  to  imagine  what  is  meant  b}^  saying  "  Par- 
allel lines  do  not  meet,  but  are  everywhere  equally 
distant ;  "  or  "  A  jDoint  has  position  but  no  extension 
in  any  dimension."  Then  one  must  already  have  had 
enough  experience  which  one  can  reproduce  to  know 
what  drawing  a  line  (in  imagination)  means  :  what 
the  "  meeting  "  of  lines  means,  etc.    Even  to  imagine 


MEMORY    AND    IMAGINATION  135 

a  straig-lit  line  at  all,  ov  to  imag-ine  any  particular 
line  as  extended,  one  must  have  perceived  lines  and 
have  experienced  what  it  is  to  extend  them. 

It  would  be  an  interesting-  inquiry,  but  far  too  com- 
plex for  our  present  purpose,  to  ask  whether  any  ob- 
ject can  be  imagined  without  setting  agoing,  at  least 
to  some  extent,  the  very  machinery,  so  to  speak,  of 
body  and  mind  that  would  necessarily  be  em]>loyed  in 
first  knowing  that  same  object.  When,  for  example, 
I  imagine  with  the  eye  a  line  drawn  to  the  left,  do  I 
not  slightly  move,  or  tend  to  move,  the  eye  in  that 
direction  ?  One  writer  on  psychology  has  proposed 
to  test  this  question  by  such  experiments  as  the  fol- 
lowing :  Open  the  mouth  very  wide,  and  then  try  to 
imagine  a  word  which  (like  "  bubble  "  or  "  toddle  ") 
cannot  actually  be  spoken  without  bring-ing-  the  lips 
or  the  teeth  close  together  ;  and  can  you  do  it  ?  At 
any  rate,  a  very  close  connection  exists  between  the 
imagination  of  certain  performances  or  of  certain 
conditions,  whether  of  mind  or  body,  and  the  sup- 
pressed beginnings  of  the  same  performances  and 
conditions.  It  is  hard  to  imagine  what  rag-e  is,  with 
jaws  dropping  down  loose ;  or  what  grief  is,  with 
head  erect  and  an  assumed  smile  on  the  face,  and  a 
good  breath  of  pure  air  drawn  well  down  into  the 
lungs.  Here  the  study  of  the  postures  of  actors,  and 
of  the  insane,  in  connection  witli  their  voluntary  or 
involuntary  play  of  imagination,  is  very  instructive. 

Reproductive  and  Productive  Imagination.  —  It  is 
customary  to  speak  of  two  iii;iiii  divisions  of  im- 
agination :    (1)  reproductive^,  and  (2)  productive  or 


136  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

creative.  These  terms  are,  however,  only  rela- 
tive. The  dreams  of  men  are  usually  given  as  in- 
stances of  reproductive  and  purely  passive  imagina- 
tion. And  it  is  \vue  that  most  dreams  seem  to  be 
played  off  before  us  (sometimes  to  our  amazement  or 
our  amusement),  rather  than  constructed  by  us  ac- 
cording to  an  accepted  plan.  And  yet  the  mind  is  a 
great  artist  in  dreams;  in  sleep  it  oftentimes  con- 
structs the  most  wonderful  dreams  out  of  very  little 
material,  whether  of  sensation  or  of  memory.  Some 
dreams,  whether  by  day  or  by  night,  do  indeed  run 
helter-skelter ;  but  then  so  do  some  of  our  "  thoughts," 
as  we  call  them.  The  real  difference,  which  ought  to 
be  emphasized,  concerns  the  amount  of  conscious 
recognition  as  suited  to  some  plan  or  ideal  end, 
which  is  given  to  the  work  of  the  imagination.  It 
may  entirely  run  away  with  us,  in  spite  of  all  efforts 
to  restrain  it ;  or  we  may  let  it  run  away  to  see  what 
it  will  do  for  us ;  or  we  may  more  deliberately  con- 
trol it  for  an  accepted  end. 

The  fact  is  that  every  man's  so-called  "  creative  " 
imagination  obeys  certain  limits,  some  of  which  are 
rather  arbitrary  and  whimsical,  and  some  of  which 
belong  to  the  laws  of  all  reality  and  of  all  mental 
life.  Thus,  no  man  can  imagine  anything  as  taking 
place  without  occupying  some  time  ;  but  it  would  be 
difficult  for  one  not  acquainted  with  the  telegraph  to 
imagine  that  distant  communication  could  be  made 
so  rapidly  as  it  actually  is  in  this  way.  Perhaps  few 
can  easily  imagine  water  as  burning  up,  until  they 
have  actually  seen  it  do  so  ;  and  it  is  said  that  a  cer- 


MEMORY    AND    IMAGINATION  137 

tain  king'  of  Siani  conld  not  imagine  water  becoming- 
solid  enough  for  elephants  to  walk  upon.  We  often 
hear  some  one  saying,  "I  cannot  imagine  it,"  on 
being  truthful!}'  told  what  another  person  has  ImowTi 
actually  to  occur. 

Creative  Imagination. — Some  further  explanation 
seems  desirable  regarding"  this  form  of  the  faculty  of 
imagination.  The  main  thing  to  notice  is  that  it  is 
always  constructive  and  works  toward  a  plan.  It 
therefore  implies  a  certain  previous  development  of 
experience  with  things,  with  ends  to  be  reached,  and 
with  the  means  of  attaining  them.  It  is  also  regu- 
larl}"  accompanied  by  desire  to  produce  something  that 
shall  be  novel  or  new — in  the  sense  of  combining  the 
results  of  past  experience  into  some  form  not  hitherto 
realized.  The  interests  which  it  serves  may  be  as 
varied  as  all  life  and  all  art — from  those  of  the  little 
girl  who  designs  patterns  for  the  clothing  of  her 
dolls,  or  the  cook  who  "  g-ets  up  "  a  new  dressing  for 
a  salad,  to  the  lofty  imagination  of  the  great  musical 
artist  or  of  the  scientific  discoverer. 

In  all  hnaginaiion  of  loholly  7ieiv  creathns  the  mind 
takes  its  2>oi7it  of  starting  from  one  or  more  memory -im- 
ages ;  and  then,  hy  processes  of  C07nbi7ting  and  modify- 
ing, it  pictures  the  7iewly  created  ohject.  It  would  be  a 
great  mistake,  however,  to  suppose  that  the  mind 
always,  or  g-enerally,  sees  its  end  from  the  begin- 
ning-. There  is  uniformly  something-  mysterious, 
something  even  that  suggests  divine  inspiration, 
about  all  truly  great  work  of  the  creative  imagina- 
tion.    Mozart's  father  is  said  to  have  recognized  it 


138  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

as  "  a  gift  of  God,"  wlieu  his  son  played,  in  tliis 
way,  upon  tlie  first  grand  organ  wliicli  he  had  ever 
seen. 

Imagination  and  Other  Faculties. — The  dependence 
of  imagination  upon  intellect  is  suggested  by  a 
study  of  the  very  nature  of  imagination  itself.  The 
artist  or  inventor,  of  every  grade  and  kind,  thinks 
while  he  also  imagines  ;  by  this  process  of  thinking- 
he,  in  part,  reaches  the  results  which  are  ascribed 
to  imagination  ;  and,  by  thinking,  he  certainly  elab- 
orates and  criticises  the  work  of  his  own  imagina- 
tion. And  yet,  as  has  just  been  seen,  imagination 
in  some  sort  outstri]is  both  perception  and  thought ; 
and  many  of  its  choicest  works  flash  in  upon  the 
mind,  all  ready-made  at  once,  like  inspirations  from 
the  divine  mind.  This  does  not,  however,  do  away 
with  the  necessity  for  training  the  intellect  in  the 
interests  of  the  imagination;  the  truth  plainly  is 
that  both  these  so-called  "  faculties  "  work  together 
hand  in  hand ;  and  no  mind  can  be  "  great "  which  is 
deficient  in  either  of  the  two. 

The  influence  of  feeling  upon  imagination  is  also 
almost  incalculable.  The  actor,  for  example,  plays 
his  part  well  only  as  he  by  a  constant  activity  of  im- 
agination enters  into  the  situations  and  the  inner 
meaning,  as  it  were,  of  the  part.  But  it  is  difiicult, 
if  not  impossible,  for  most  persons  to  do  this  with- 
out the  feelings  becoming  involved.  How  impos- 
sible must  it  be  to  play  the  part  of  King  Lear  with- 
out the  imagination  requisite  to  picture  the  father 
and  the  monarch  in   circumstances  like  his !     But 


MEMORY   AND   IMAGINATION  139 

bow  difficult  to  do  this  without  the  heart  being  sym- 
pathetically stirred !  This  stirring-  of  feeling-,  if  it 
does  not  "  run  awa}^  "  with  the  intellect  of  the  artist, 
greatly  helps  and  warms  his  imagination.  And  to 
say  that  iraag-ination  chooses  materials  to  combine 
for  the  attainment  of  a  chosen  end  is  the  same  thing 
as  to  say  that  imagination  is  also  an  affair  of  will. 

Kinds  of  Imagination. — There  are  as  many  kinds  of 
imagination  as  there  are  distinctive  uses  of  this 
facultj".  A  distinction  is  sometimes  made  between 
fancy  and  imagination  ;  but  it  is  truer  to  the  facts  to 
say  that  fancy  is  a  species  of  imagination.  We  may 
then  call  by  the  term  "  fancy  "  such  acts  of  imagina- 
tion as  have  less  regard  for  what  is  probable  or  de- 
termined by  known  facts  and  laws ;  such  as  are  less 
likely  to  be  connected  with  important  practical  in- 
terests rather  than  serving  to  amuse  or  to  "  tickle  ; " 
and  as  such  are  less  careful  of  method  and  less  last- 
ingly pleasing  to  our  feeling  of  the  beautiful. 

Imagination  may  also  be  spoken  of  as  practical, 
or  scientific,  or  artistic,  or  philosophical,  or  ethical 
and  religious.  The  great  inventor  is  a  man  of  pre- 
dominatingly practical  use  of  imagination ;  he  has 
as  an  end  in  view  something  useful  to  be  done. 
But  it  is  a  serious  mistake  to  suppose  that  a  student 
of  any  science  can  Ije  great  without  a  strong  and 
lofty  imagination.  Indeed,  tlie  meanness  and  little- 
ness of  a  considerable!  proportion  of  the  so-called 
"  scientists  "this  very  day  is  due  to  dfdiciency  in  im- 
agination. Mathematics  and  philosophy,  too,  ex- 
ercise the  imagination  in  th(;  very  loftiest  way  ;  they 


140  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

are  only  excelled  in  their  demands  upon  it  by  tlie 
spheres  of  morals  and  religion.     And  here  again,  the  J 

meanness  in  conduct  of  many,  and  also  their  nar- 
rowness in  religion,  comes  larg"ely  from  lack  of  im- 
agination. I 


CHAPTEE  IX 

THOUCrHT  AND  LANGUAGE 

MA>rr  psj^cliologists  have  treated  of  tlioiight  as 
tlioiigli  it  were  a  separate  faculty  that  follows  wholly 
after  perception,  memorj^,  and  imagiuatiou  have  act- 
ed, and  so  tcikes  the  finished  products  of  these  facul- 
ties and  subjects  them  to  a  wholly  new  form  of  treat- 
ment. It  is  true,  indeed,  that  strength  and  grasp  of 
thought  proper  are  a  comparatively  late  develop- 
ment. The  young  are  often  very  quick  and  accu- 
rate in  perception  and  in  memory,  while  the  su- 
perabundance of  imagination  in  youth  is  a  sort  of 
common-place.  But  the  young  are  seldom  remark- 
ably thoughtful;  and  thoughtlessness  is  excused 
— perhaps  rather  too  readily  so,  in  these  days — by 
the  remark  that  it  cannot  be  expected  in  early  life. 
For  it  is  experience  that  makes  men  thoughtful. 

Now,  on  the  other  hand,  without  actually  "  think- 
ing " — in  the  sense  of  the  word  which  psychology  is 
compelled  to  recognize — it  is  impossible  even  to 
gain  any  experience  whatever.  For  activity  of  the 
intellect  is  necessary  even  in  beginning  experience. 
Perceiving  things  is  "  minding  "  things  ;  and  so  is  re- 
memljerin/j  or  irnngining  them.  This  somewhat  diffi- 
cult truth  wc  sliall  now  tiy  to  nuike  clear. 

Discriminating   Consciousness — Thus   far  states  of 


142  PRIMEU   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

consciousness  liave  been  spoken  of  cliiefl}^  as  tliougli 
they  were  passive — mere  conditions  into  which  the 
mind  is  thrown  by  the  stimulus  of  sensations  or  by 
the  incoming"  of  ideas.  But  there  is  no  state  of  con- 
sciousness in  which  the  mind  is  not  also  active  ;  in- 
deed, this  appeared  true  when  attention  was  spoken 
of  as  belonging  to  every  mental  state  (see  p.  23f .) ;  and 
when  every  state  was  considered  as  being-  also  in  one 
of  its  aspects  a  state  of  doing  something  (p.  1-4). 

Let  it  now  be  noticed,  however,  that  the  very  ex- 
istence of  any  state  of  consciousness,  as  known  by 
the  subject  of  it  to  be  such  a  state  and  no  other,  im- 
plies activity  in  discrimination.  This  statement  is 
not  to  be  understood  as  though  a  faculty  called  "  in- 
tellect "  presided  over  consciousness,  as  it  were,  and 
observed  what  was  groiug  on  in  it,  and  then  i^ro- 
nounced  upon  the  event  as  belonging  to  this  or  that 
particular  kind  of  state  rather  than  to  some  other. 
The  rather  must  all  consciousness,  as  such,  he  regarded 
as  having  an  active  side,  as  being  discriminating  con- 
sciousness. So,  too,  of  course,  no  object  of  percep- 
tion, of  memory,  or  of  imagination  can  be  known  with- 
out imx)]ying  the  same  activity  of  the  mind  in  dis- 
criminating. Indeed,  it  is  chiefly  this  very  thing 
which  makes  us  speak  of  the  life  of  consciousness  as 
"  mental."  Or,  to  say  the  same  thing  in  other 
words  :  The  working  of  intellect  in  this  primary  sort 
of  way  is  to  be  acknowledged  in  connection  with  the 
very  beginnings  of  experience.  For  this  reason  such 
activitj^  may  be  called  "primary  intellection." 

Physiological  Conditions  of  Intellect. — All  thinking 


»} 


THOUGHT   AN^D   LANGUAGE  143 

even  of  the  most  rudimentary  sort,  implies  Avork  be- 
ing- done  in  the  brain,  -which,  in  intensity  and  ex- 
tent of  the  areas  involved,  corresponds  in  some  sort 
to  the  amount  of  the  thinking-.  It  is  not  then  a 
mere  figure  of  speech  when  thinking-  is  called 
"brain-work."  Perceiving,  remembering-,  and  im- 
agining- are  also  brain-work ;  but  thinking  is  pre- 
eminentlj^  so.  Experiment  shows  that  as  the  amount 
of  intellectual  activity,  of  active  discriminating  con- 
sciousness increases,  the  time  required  to  perform  it 
increases.  This  time  is  also  a  measure  in  someway 
of  the  brain-work.  Thus  it  takes  from  one-tenth  to 
five-tenths  or  more  of  a  second  longer  to  perform 
some  simple  act  of  discrimination  than  simply  to 
react  without  discrimination.  If  the  number  of 
colors  or  letters  exposed  for  the  quickest  possible 
recognition  increases  from  one  to  six,  then  the  time 
required  to  think  enough  to  recognize  them  in- 
creases from  about  three-tenths  to  about  eight- 
tenths,  or  even  to  eleven-tenths  of  a  second. 

It  is  also  found  that  the  lower  animals — for  ex- 
ample, dogs — may,  after  losing  parts  of  the  higher 
regions  of  the  brain,  be  able  to  sec  light  and  to  hear 
sounds,  but  without  thinking  any  meaning-  into 
them.  Such  animals  are  called  "soul-blind"  <>r 
"  soul-deaf."  AVe  not  infrequently  detect  ourselves 
in  a  kind  of  use  of  the  senses,  or  of  memory,  whicli  has 
very  little  mind  in  it ;  and  wa  know  that,  other  things 
being  at  all  c(|u;il,  ihis  is  a  less  fatiguing  kind  <>f 
work.  But  real  inrnUd  work  in  flio  way  of  ilis(  rinii- 
nating  makes  us  sweat  or  makes  us  tired. 


144  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

Mental  Activity  in  Discrimination The  word  "  dis- 

crimiuatiou  "  has  just  been  used  for  a  lower  aud 
yet  most  general  and  really  rather  complex  form  of 
mental  activity.  For  when  we  reflect  upon  the  mat- 
ter further,  it  seems  as  though  several  difierent 
forms  of  activity  were  involved  in  this  one.  How, 
it  may  be  asked,  can  one  discriminate  without  being- 
conscious  both  of  likeness  and  unlikeness  ;  since  a 
thing  can  be  distinguished  from  others  only  as  it  is 
"  like  "  some  past  experience  or  object,  and  so  is  also 
"  unlike  "  other  experiences  or  objects  ?  Even  so 
simple  a  state  as  a  toothache  cannot  be  known  as 
such  (a  peculiar  "  ache  "  that  is  located  in  a  "  tooth  "), 
without  being  likened  to  something  else ;  and  also 
deemed  unlike  yet  a  third  something.  And  since 
all  mental  states,  and  all  objects  known  in  them,  are 
mauy-sided  and  complex,  it  would  appear  that  the 
mind  must  select  certain  elements  or  sides  and  re- 
late them  to  its  past  experience,  if  it  is  to  think 
them  at  all.  But  this  selection  would  seem  to  in- 
volve analysis  and  synthesis.  Apparently,  then,  a 
number  of  subordinate  processes  enter  into  that 
complex  mental  activity  which  has  just  been  called 
"  primary  intellection." 

Consciousness  of  Resemblance. — Whenever  we  be- 
come aware  that  some  state  of  our  own,  or  some 
object  which  we  are  regarding,  "resembles"  or  is 
"like"  some  other  state  or  object,  we  reach  an  ex- 
perience which  cannot  possibly  be  described  in  any 
simpler  terms.  One  may  be  able  to  tell  correctl}^, 
or  not,  what  any   particular  thing  is  like ;  but  no 


THOUGHT   AND    LANGUAGE  145 

one  can  tell  what  it  is  in  g-eneral  for  one  thing-  to  he 
like  another.  This  impossibility  any  one  may  quickly 
test  for  one's  self.  How  would  you  describe  "  the 
consciousness  of  likeness,"  except  by  saying-,  "Why, 
it  is  like,  etc."  ?  But  you  would  thus  appeal  to  the 
very  form  of  consciousness  which  you  were  trj'ing 
to  describe. 

Let  it  not  be  forg-otten  that  it  is  a  fo7'm  of  con- 
sciousness of  which  we  are  here  speaking- — a  being 
conscious  of  reseiiihlance.  This  exi3erience  has  to  be 
accepted  as  accounting-  for  itself.  Things  that  are 
actually  like  each  other  might  exist  in  close  neigh- 
borhood forever ;  and  mental  states  that  are  like 
other  mental  states  might  follow  each  other  forever  ; 
and  all  this,  of  itself,  would  not  account  for  the  con- 
sciousness of  resemblance.  But  this  form  of  con- 
sciousness itself  furnishes  the  account  of  all  our 
ideas  and  all  our  knowledg-e  of  particular  likenesses, 
both  in  thing's  and  in  mental  states. 

Consciousness  of  Difference. — Almost  or  (juite  equal- 
ly primary  is  that  mental  activity  which  may  be 
called  the  being-  immediately  aware  of  the  unlike, 
or  the  "consciousness  of  difference."  It  is  not  easy, 
or  perhaps  even  possible,  to  say  which  of  these  two 
forms  of  "discriminating-  consciousness" — the  "con- 
sciousness of  similarity  "  or  the  "  consciousness  of 
dilfercnce  " — is  the  more  primary.  Both  are  alike 
necessary  to  all  development  of  thoug-ht.  It  is  a 
soi-t  of  shock,  as  i)roduced  especially  by  any  sudden 
and  marked  change  in  the  stream  of  consciou.sness, 
and  often  accompanied  by  surprised  anil  painful 
10 


146  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

feeling-,  wliicli  origiually  excites  aud  guides  the  con- 
sciousness of  difference.  Tiie  bitter  taste  that  is 
caused  with  the  design  to  wean  the  infant,  or  the  too 
warm  temperature  of  his  customary  cup  of  milk,  are 
instances.  Such  things  occasion  a  pause,  a  doubt,  a 
repeated  application  of  the  "  noticing "  power  of 
the  mind. 

The  early  years  of  human  life  may  exhibit  a  sur- 
prising power  in  discriminating  differences  in  the 
qualities  of  objects  and  in  the  amounts  of  things. 
Becent  experiments  in  the  schools  of  New  Haven 
have  shown  how  this  form  of  consciousness  devel- 
ops, on  the  whole,  from  the  age  of  six  to  the  age  of 
seventeen ;  and  yet  with  certain  variations  depend- 
ent upon  age,  sex,  and  obscure  individual  peculiari- 
ties. On  the  whole,  boys  are  somewhat  superior  to 
girls,  excejit  in  the  nice  discrimination  of  shades  of 
color.  Men  are  known  to  be  superior  to  women  in 
their  power  to  discriminate  sensations  produced  by 
the  divider's  points  on  different  areas  of  the  skin 
(compare  p.  99f.).  It  is  very  instructive  to  notice 
how  sensitive  children  are  to  differences  of  quan- 
tity, especially  where  interest  is  strong.  The  boy 
quickly  knows  when  one  stick  of  candy  has  been 
abstracted  from  his  hoard  of  six  sticks,  at  an  age 
long  before  he  can  count  up  to  that  number.  Even 
crows  will  sometimes  discriminate  between  four  men 
and  five  ;  while  infants  of  four  to  six  years  old  may 
discern  correctly  the  difference,  as  a  gross  mass,  be- 
tween seventeen  and  eighteen  objects.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  suggestions  of  sight  cause  most  people  to 


THOUGHT   AISTD   LA^^GUAGE  147 

go  "  quite  wild ""  iu  their  guesses  at  the  difference 
between  two  weights. 

Comparison. — The  effect  of  the  foregoing  two  forms 
of  conscious  activity  is  very  marked  upon  the  charac- 
ter of  our  ideas.  In  this  way  the  ideas  are,  more  or 
less  vaguely  and  fitfull}^  at  first,  and  yet  consciously 
and  actively,  related  to  each  other  as  like  or  unlike. 
Instead  of  being  merely  subject  to  their  2ycissive  flow, 
ice  think  the  ideas  under  the  terms  of  thought.  In- 
stead of  simply  recurring  as  like  or  unlike  states  or 
objects,  they  are  actively  compared,  and  pronounced 
like  or  unlike,  and  related  together  by  an  intellectual 
activitj^  Such  distinctively  " mental  assimilation" 
is  therefore  a  distinct  stage  in  mental  development 
beyond  that  mere  fusion  of  ideas  to  which  reference 
was  made  (p.  78f.).  It  is  the  dawning  of  intellect  ; 
it  is  that  which  is  expressed  by  saying:  "I  think" 
this  to  belong  with  that,  and  the  other  to  be  diil'er- 
eut  from  both.  AVitli  reference  to  the  same  activity 
we  say  :  "  Hold  on  ;  let  us  see  ;  let  us  put  these  two 
things  side  by  side  and  notice  them  attentively,  and 
then  judge  them  to  l)e  fitly,  in  our  minds,  joined  to- 
gether or  classed  apart."  All  this  iniplics  com[);ir- 
ison  resulting  in  what  has  been  called  cither  "  as- 
similation "  or  "differentiation,"  according  as  the 
objects  are  judged  like  or  judged  unlike. 

Primary  Juclg-ment. — It  was  shown  that  some  sort 
of  judgment  is  imi)li(Ml  in  jill  (hivclopcd  ])(n'(^('i)tio]is 
by  the  senses  (p.  H*.)f.).  'Tliis  conscious  i-clatiiig  of 
states,  ideas,  objects,  as  like  or  iiiili1<('  in  (|Uiility  and 
quantity,  is  an  act  of  judging.     Or,  to  express  the 


148  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

truth  in  general  terms :    Tlie  conscious  affirming  of 
relations  of  resemblance  and  difference  hetiveen  the  con- 
tents of  consciousness  is  the  "primiHve  form  of  judgment. 
We  are  judging  in   this  way  constantly.     For  ex- 
ample, a  noise  startles  us,  and  we  ask  ourselves  or 
some    one   else  :    "  What  was   that  noise  ?  "      The 
question  itself  implies  an  excitement  of  the  mind 
to  thought.   The  answer — "  It  was  a  door  slammed," 
or  "  was  a  clap  of  thunder  " — is  an   act  of  judging 
which  quiets  and  satisfies  the  mind.     Or,  again,  a 
noise  is  heard,  and  we   exclaim  to  ourselves,  "  Two 
o'clock !  "     A  form  appears  in  the  door,  and  Ave  cry 
out,  "  John !  "  or  "  George !  "    But  equally,  with  little 
or  no  consciousness  of  excitement,  moment  by  mo- 
ment we  are  thinhlng  the  objects  of  the  senses,  or 
our   own  ideas  and  thoughts ;   making  them  thus 
to  be  such  and  no   other  objects,  ideas,  thoughts, 
that  are  likened  to,  or  differenced  from,  one  another. 
Developed  Processes  of  Thought. — It  is  the  custom 
with  writers  on  logic  and  psychology  to  distinguish 
at  least  these  four  conscious  activities  as  involved  in 
all  thinking : — (1)  comparison,  (2)  identification,  (3) 
generalization,  (4)  naming.     A  few  words  upon  each 
of  these  processes  is  now  in  place  ;  since  they  are 
all  modifications  of  the  work  of  intellect  (or  the 
minding  of  things),  as  it  operates  to  organize  and 
develop  experience.      Something  has  already  been 
said  about  (1)  comparison.    Let  it  now  be  noticed,  in 
addition,  that  all  actual   objects  are  very  comjilex. 
The  result  is,  of  course,  that  each  one  is  like  many 
other  objects  in  some  particulars,  and  in  other  par- 


THOUGHT  AND  LAXGUAGE         149 

ticulars  unlike.  Suppose,  for  example,  one  is  stand- 
ing in  front  of  a  cathedral  in  Europe  somewhere, 
which  one  has  never  seen  before.  One  begins  at 
once  to  "  comiiare  "  it  with  other  cathedrals.  It  is 
larger  than  the  one  at  X. ;  it  is  more  i^urely  Gothic ; 
it  has  more  steej^les  or  towers ;  it  is  built  of  a  differ- 
ent kind  of  stone,  etc.  One  may,  however,  compare 
this  cathedral  with  other  churches  that  are  not  cathe- 
drals, or  with  other  buildings  that  are  not  churches. 
In  all  this  one  would  be  thuiking  the  object,  "  mind- 
ing" it,  as  it  were. 

But  now  it  is  also  perfectly  plain  that  in  this 
activity  of  comi^aring  one  is  also  using  (2)  identijica- 
tion.  This  cathedral  is  like,  or  even  unlike,  other 
cathedrals,  only  as  we  agree  with  ourselves  to  con- 
sider all  cathedrals  as  identical,  as  being  the  same 
in  so  far  as  they  are  cathedrals,  and  not  factories,  or 
mere  stones,  or  flowers,  or  fish,  or  stars.  So  with  the 
architecture,  the  steeples,  the  towers,  the  windows, 
etc.  Even  when  we  recognize  a  color  as  red,  or  a 
taste  as  sweet,  we  identify  it  by  thought  with  Avhat 
we  have  experienced  before. 

This  process  also  involves  and  leads  to  (3)  f/encr- 
alization  and  clafisifyhuj.  This  cathedral  is,  indeed,  a 
particular  cathedral,  right  here  before  us  now,  and 
the  only  one  exactly  like  it  in  all  the  world.  But  in 
its  being  a  "cathedral  "  to  us,  it  is  first  generalized 
under  a  class  by  an  act  of  thinking.  And  so  it  lias 
sometimes  been  sai<l  :  "  Tluniglit  is  tlio  ordering  of 
the  manifold  into  a  unity."  Further,  lliis  class  of 
objects  has  also  (i)  a  naiii<\     It  is  ulreatly,  by  com- 


150  PRIMEU   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

mon  usage,  called  "cathedral."  Whenever  one  is 
eng-ag-ed  in  the  process  of  mastering  any  object  by 
thought,  one  is  somehow  gratified  and  assisted  by 
learning  its  name.  Of  this,  however,  more  will  be 
said  later  on. 

Stages  or  Forms  of  Thought. — It  is  also  customary 
to  speak  of  three  kinds  and  products  of  thought. 
These  are  called  conceiDtion,  judgment,  and  reason- 
ing. But  it  has  already  been  shown  that  it  is  judg- 
ing, in  this  most  primary  form  in  which  it  enters 
into  all  the  work  of  the  intellect,  that  is  the  very 
essence  of  all  thinking.  So  that,  i^roperly  speaking, 
to  frame  a  conception  it  is  necessary  to  judge. 
Eeasoning,  too,  is  only  a  process  of  judging,  con- 
ducted in  such  a  way  that  one  judgment  follows 
another  in  a  recognized  dependence  upon  it  as  upon 
its  "reason"  or  "ground."  The  nature  of  thought 
will,  however,  become  more  clearly  apparent  only  if 
it  be  considered  in  all  its  three  forms. 

Nature  of  a  Concept — The  term  idea,  or  mental  im- 
age, was  applied  to  a  state  of  consciousness  which 
is  "representative"  of  past  experience.  For  this 
reason  the  term  representative  image  was  also  em- 
ployed (p.  69).  It  was  further  seen  that  by  processes 
which  were  called  "  fusion  "  (p.  781'.),  and  "  freeing  " 
of  the  ideas,  they  may  become  adapted,  as  it  were, 
to  represent  past  experience  in  a  way  more  general, 
if  also  less  life-like  and  more  vague.  It  is  thinking, 
however,  in  the  form  of  judging,  which  converts  the 
ideas  into  conceptions.  In  other  words,  a  conception 
of  any  object,  or  class  of  ohjects,  is  reached  hy  a  united 


THOUGHT  AXD  LANGUAGE         151 

activity  of  th^  image-making  mid  the  judging  faculty  of 
the  mind. 

Such  a  statement  as  that  just  made  can  best  be 
tested  by  taking-  it  straight  to  daily  experience.  Two 
classes  of  philosophers — the  Nominalists  and  the 
Realists — have  held  divergent  opinions  on  the  nature 
of  conception  during'  a  long  period  of  time.  Psy- 
chology, however,  is  interested  to  ask  :  What  is  it 
that  actually  goes  on  in  the  mind  which  corresponds 
to  the  name  for  any  class  of  objects  1  What  do  you 
think,  or  think  about,  when  you  realize  the  mean- 
ing of  a  word  like  "  lion,"  or  "  man  ;  "  or  even  some 
more  abstract  word,  like  "  virtue,"  or  "  state  "  ?  In 
every  case  it  will  be  found  that,  if  any  truly  mental 
process  is  aroused  in  so-called  conception,  this  proc- 
ess consists  of  series  of  pictures  of  the  imagination 
(more  or  less  vivid  and  life-like  or  dull  and  "  sche- 
matic "),  accompanied  by  activities  in  judging.  With 
some  jiersons  the  picture-making  part  is  more  pro- 
nounced ;  with  others,  thinking  in  the  form  of  judg- 
inont  (and,  ]iorha]is,  nlso  talking  to  one's  self). 

Kinds  and  Qualities  of  Concepts. — It  belongs  to  logic 
rather  than  to  psychology  to  classify  concepts  as 
though  they  were  real  existences,  and  to  tell  how 
they  may  be  combined  into  higher  and  higher  forms 
of  judgment.  Thus  concepts  are  said  to  have  "  con- 
tent "  or  "intension,"  and  "extension."  ]>y  the 
former  is  meant  the  number  of  commoji  proprrties 
which  the  oljjects  are  known  to  have,  that  are  essen- 
tial to  their  being  called  by  the  same  name.  Every 
lion,  for  example,  must  have  four  legs,  or  Ix;  a  "  (piad- 


152  PRIMEll   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

ruped,"  must  be  an  eater  of  flesli,  or  "  carnivorous," 
etc.  By  the  latter  term  ("  extension  ")  is  understood 
tlie  number  of  subordinate  classes,  or  of  individuals, 
to  wliich  the  name  can  jiroperly  be  applied.  The  mis- 
taken statement  is  sometimes  made  that  extension 
and  intension  vary  inversely — that  is,  as  one  becomes 
g-reater  the  other  becomes  less.  For  further  details 
on  all  these  subjects,  books  on  logic  may  be  con- 
sulted ;  but  psychology  has  little  real  interest  in 
them. 

Logical  Judgments. — The  nature  of  the  mental  ac- 
tivity which  takes  place  in  all  thinking,  even  the 
most  elementary,  has  been  seen  to  involve  a  kind  of 
judgment.  This  kind  of  judgment  has  been  called 
"primary"  (p.  147);  it  has  also  just  been  declared 
necessary  to  all  forming  of  conceptions.  No  concep- 
tion (or  "  idea,"  or  "  notion,"  as  is  popularly  said) 
can  be  had  of  a  "  lion,"  or  of  a  "  man,"  or  a  "  flower," 
without  picturing  and  judging  it  to  be  like  some  par- 
ticular object  and  unlike  some  other  object.  But,  on 
the  other  hand,  these  so-called  conceptions,  or  con- 
densed results  of  thinking,  become,  in  turn,  the  terms 
which  are  united  into  more  elaborate  judgments. 
To  take  the  same  example,  if  one  learns  that  a  lion 
is  a  "  quadruped  "  and  "  carnivorous,"  whether  by 
actually  counting  his  legs  and  seeing  him  eat  flesh, 
or  by  being  told  about  him,  one  is  then  prepared  to 
pronounce  the  judgment :  "  A  lion  is  a  carnivorous 
quadruped."  This  particular  judgment  thus  unites  a 
conception  (lion),  which  is  the  subject  of  the  sen- 
tence, with  two  other  conceptions  (quadruped  and 


THOUGHT  AND  LANGUAGE         153 

carnivorous),  which  are  the  predicates.  It  appears, 
then,  that  a  logical  judgment  is  a  mental  act  uniting 
concejHions,  or  "  condensed  "  results  of  past  acts  of  jndg- 
ment,  wliicli  are  already  familiar  to  us  and  which  have 
previously  heen  fixed  hy  names.  For  in  this  case  we 
know,  at  least,  what  it  is  for  an  animal  to  have  legs, 
to  eat  flesh,  etc. 

Forms  of  Judgment.— The  mental  act  of  uniting  (or 
"  synthesis  ")  may  take  place  under  any  one  or  more 
of  several  forms.  Among  these  the  following  are  the 
most  important :  (1)  Resemblance  or  difference.  This 
has  already  been  seen  (p.  148)  to  be  the  form  most  fa- 
miliar in  the  primary  judgment.  Now,  suppose,  how- 
ever, that  one  sees  in  a  collection  of  wild  animals  an 
unknown  kind.  "AVhat  is  it?"  is  the  question  which 
rises  to  the  mind  and  to  the  lips.  It  is  like  a  tiger, 
because  it  has  stripes  and  is  whitish  on  the  under 
side  of  the  belly.  But  it  is  not  a  tiger,  because  the 
stripes  are  faint  along  the  sides  and  Ijrownish-ycllow 
above ;  while  the  tiger  has  plainly  marked  bhutk 
bars  on  a  bright  orange-yellow  ground.  It  is  an  ani- 
mal ;  it  is  a  quadruped  ;  it  looks  carnivorous  ;  it  is 
most  like  a  tiger  ;  but  it  not  enough  like  a  tiger  to 
be  one.  AVliat,  then,  is  it  ?  Its  name  is  "  a  jaguar  ; " 
one  henceforth,  then,  judges  the  jaguar  to  have  the 
resemblances  and  difierences  which  one  has  thus 
marked. 

(2)  Space  and  time  give  us  forms  under  whic-h 
certain  logical  judgments  fall.  Thus  th(!  inkstand 
is  related  to  tlio  talile  as  being  on.  it;  jiimI  tlic  ink 
to  the  stand  as  being  in  it,  etc.     Onu  tiling  is  "  far 


154  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

to  the  rig-lit"  and  another  "near  by  on  the  left"  of 
us.  This  day  is  "after"  yesterday,  in  time,  and 
"before"  to-morrow.  Judgments  of  relations  in 
space  and  of  quantity,  judgments  in  g-eometry  and 
arithmetic,  are  of  this  order. 

But  one  of  the  most  early  and  interesting  of  all  the 
forms  of  judgment  is  (3)  that  which  attributes  an 
action,  to  an  agent.  Very  early  in  life — it  cannot  be 
told  how  early — the  judgment  which  refers  our  ex- 
perience to  what  is  done  by  things  acting  upon  us, 
or  upon  each  other,  is  framed.  When  first  the  infant 
sa3"s  "  hot,"  on  pointing  to  his  steaming  cup  of  drink, 
he  iDrobably  is  not  simply  judging  that  an  attribute 
belongs  to  a  subject,  but  rather  that  a  thing  will, 
under  certain  circumstances,  do  something  to  him 
(namel}^,  burn  him).  On  this  effect  of  our  own  con- 
scious activity  upon  our  judgments  and  our  reason- 
ings we  shall  remark  further  in  another  place. 

Language  and  Thought. — It  has  already  been  seen 
that  the  "  naming '"  of  things,  and  of  our  own  states 
of  mind,  our  ideas  and  thoughts,  is  an  important 
part  of  thinking  itself.  This  fact  has  occasioned  the 
inquiry  as  to  "  the  relation  of  language  to  thought." 
Connected  with  this  main  inquiry  are  many  subor- 
dinate inquiries,  such  as,  why  the  lower  animals 
cannot  invent  and  use  language,  how  far  thought  is 
possible  without  language,  etc.  Into  these  matters 
we  cannot,  of  course,  here  enter  at  length.  It  should 
be  remembered,  however,  that  it  is  one  thing  to  say 
that  thinking  cannot  develop  to  any  extent  without 
the  aid  of  some  kind  of  recognized  symbol  for  its 


THOUGHT  AND  LANGUAGE         155 

products,  and  quite  another  tiling-  to  afllrni  that 
2vords,  as  the  peculiarly  human  symbols  of  thoughts, 
arc  indispensable  to  all  thinking.  The  latter  propo- 
sition certainly  is  not  true.  The  deaf  and  dumb  can 
think  very  elaborately  by  helping  themselves  with 
symbols  which  appeal  to  sight.  In  the  novel, 
"  God's  Fool,"  it  is  shown,  in  accordance  with  a  true 
psj'chology ,  how  conceptions  may  be  elaborated  and 
communicated  to  one  blind  as  well  as  deaf  and  dumb, 
by  tracing  symbols  on  the  skin.  Probablj'',  however, 
without  some  kind  of  recognized  sign  to  accompany, 
and,  as  it  were,  to  sustain  thinking,  it  could  not  go 
on;  and  without  words  joined  together  in  the  form 
of  judgments  the  mental  processes  tend  to  become 
a  mere  succession  of  acts  of  image-making.  On  the 
other  hand,  with  the  use  of  words,  the  symbols  them- 
selves are  glibly  united  so  as  often,  with  little  or  no 
real  thinking  underneath,  to  bring  tlie  mind  to  tlie 
same  practical  conclusion  as  that  which  would  be 
reached  much  more  slowly  by  stopping  "  to  think 
ourselves  through,"  as  it  is  customary  to  say. 

The  Nature  of  Lang-uage. — It  is  natural  for  man, 
under  the  intluencu  of  any  strong  feeling,  to  open  his 
mouth  and  send  forth  some  peculiar  and  expressive 
sound.  Tlie  lower  animals,  too,  have  tlieir  natural 
cries  and  expressive  sounds,  as  well  as  other  symbols 
which  signify  something  to  other  mend)('rs  of  the 
same  species.  But  none  of  tin m  have  aiiylliiiig  like 
the  nicely  modulati'd  i)owi'r  oi  hearing  and  of  utter- 
ance which  man  readily  attains.  So  that  hokik/s  aro 
with  man  his  most  easy  and  ai^pioiuiate   gesture; 


156  PEIMEE   OF  PSYCHOLOGY 

although  they  are  greatly  helped  out,  in  the  case  of 
some  races  and  of  individuals  of  all  races,  by  otlier 
forms  of  expression.  Thus  it  has  been  said  :  "  Speak- 
ing is  the  instinct  of  man  ;  man  builds  speech  as  the 
bird  its  nest."  But  these  instinctive  and  expressive 
sounds  are  not,  as  yet,  genuine  words.  They  must 
themselves  come  under  the  influence  of  the  very  form 
of  mental  life  which  they  are  fitted  to  serve ;  and 
this  is  thought,  ending  in  what  has  been  explained 
as  the  forming  of  conceptions  (p.  150f.). 

Words  and  Thoughts.— To  convert  a  sound  into  a 
genuine  word,  it  must  be  used  as  not  simply  a  symbol 
of  some  mental  state,  but  as  a  so-called  "  movable 
type."  That  is,  it  must  be  intelligently  employed  as 
standing  for  what  we  have  already  seen  to  be  gen- 
eral in  nature,  and  to  belong  to  a  whole  class  of  ob- 
jects, as  made  known  to  thought.  Even  those  stu- 
dents of  the  mental  life  of  the  lower  animals  who  are 
most  favorably  disposed  to  rank  it  highly,  are  pretty 
well  agreed  that  these  animals  do  not  use  their  vari- 
ous symbols  as  "  movable  types."  This  is  not  only 
because  their  organs  of  hearing  and  of  utterance  are 
so  inferior  to  those  of  man,  but  also  because  they  are 
not  capable  of  thinking  as  man  learns  to  think,  and 
in  the  highest  sense  of  the  word.  A  pretty  story 
from  the  French  of  M.  Taine  will  illustrate  this  :  A 
little  girl  of  only  eighteen  months  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  play  hide-and-go-seek  with  her  mother, 
calling  out,  ^^Coucou."  She  had  also  been  told  about 
things  hot,  "  Ca  hrale  "  ("  that  will  burn  ").  On  seeing 
for  the  first  time   the   setting  sun  disappear  sud- 


THOUGHT  AND  LANGUAGE        157 

denly  behind  the  hill,  she  cried  out :  "A  Vide 
coucoii "  ("  The  burning-  thing-  is  playing-  hide-and- 
g-o-seek").  This  infant  had  made  a  grand  "  gener- 
alization," as  we  should  say  ;  and  she  matched  it  by 
using-  words  "  as  movable  types."  It  seems  quite 
certain  that  no  animal,  however  intelligent,  ever  per- 
forms an  act  of  real  thinking  or  uses  the  symbols 
of  its  own  mental  states  in  a  way  to  equal  this  infant 
of  eighteen  months. 

Orig-in  of  Language. — The  debate  has  been  very 
long  and  hot  as  to  how  language  could  have 
originated.  It  is  a  question  which  the  science  of 
mind  can  answer  only  in  one  way.  Language  origi- 
nated and  has  developed  as  both  the  exj^ressiou  and 
the  essential  aid  to  the  development  of  mental  life. 
In  different  races  and  individuals  it  marks  the  char- 
acter and  the  amount  of  mental  development  as  no 
other  sign  does.  But  it  also  gives  conditions  to 
mental  development.  So  that  those  who  are  born 
into  the  inheritance  of  a  highly  organized  language 
— like  Greek,  German,  or  English — are,  in  that  wry 
way,  invited  and  almost  comi)ellcd  to  think  and  to 
feel  in  accordance  with  it. 


CHAPTEE  X 

REASONING  AND  KNOWLEDGE 

"When  speaking-  of  the  stages  or  forms  of  tlionghtj 
(p.  150)  reasoning  was  mentioned  as  tlie  last  and 
most  elaborate  of  them  all.  Yet  incredibly  swift 
instinctive  reasoning  enters  into  all  our  daily  life, 
even  into  those  mental  acts  which  seem  to  be  the 
results  of  immediate  x)erception  by  the  senses.  For 
example,  we  hear  a  noise,  and  say:  "The  train  is 
coming  ;"  or  we  hear  a  succession  of  sounds,  and  at 
once  declare  :  "  There  is  a  fire  near  the  corner  of  A 
and  £  streets." 

Reasoning  in  Perception  by  the  Senses. — It  is  plain 
that  a  sort  of  reasoning  may  be  implied  in  such  per- 
ceptions as  are  expressed  by  the  sentences :  "  I  hear 
the  train  coming ;"  or  "  I  see  Mr.  Smith  coming  dowTi 
the  street."  This  fact  may  be  brought  out  by  sup- 
posing a  pause  before  the  judgment  which  results 
from  percej)tion  is  pronounced ;  and  that  this  jDause 
results  from  a  doubt  arising  in  the  mind.  To  keep 
the  same  example :  suppose  we  are  not  quite  sure 
whether  it  is  the  train  coming  or  the  rumbling  of 
distant  thunder  which  we  hear;  or  are  in  doubt 
whether  it  is  indeed  Mr.  Smith,  or  is  Mr.  Brown, 
whom  we  see  coming  down  the  street.  In  such  a 
case  w^e  should  be  disposed  to  listen  or  to  look  more 


KEASONING   AND   KNOWLEDGE  159 

intently,  so  as  —  note  tlie  expressive  phrase  —  to 
"  make  up  our  minds."  It  is  also  plain  that  in  this 
very  process  of  makiui:;-  up  the  mind,  more  or  less  of 
reasoning  might  be  done.  Careful  listening  or 
looking-  might  result,  without  our  knowing  why,  in 
its  being  "  borne  in  upon  "  the  mind  that  the  noise 
was,  after  all,  thunder,  and  not  the  train :  that  the 
person  approaching  was,  after  all,  Mr.  Brown,  and 
not  Mr.  Smith. 

But  it  is  not  nearly  so  easy  to  suppose  we  could 
attain  the  knowledge,  that  "  there  is  a  fire  near  the 
corner  of  A  and  B  streets,"  from  merely  hearing  a 
succession  of  sounds,  and  without  more  or  less  of 
conscious  reasoning.  For  let  a  case  like  this  be  ex- 
amined somewhat  more  closely.  What  is  really 
heard  is  only  a  succession  of  sounds  of  a  peculiar 
quality,  intensity,  timbre,  etc.  If  they  have  been 
associated  by  i5ast  experience  in  such  a  way  that 
they  are  now  heard  as  "the  sounds  of  the  fire-bell," 
there  need  be  no  present  conscious  act  of  reasoning. 
But  these  sounds  are  also  heard  in  a  certain  [xriiliar 
order  and  up  to  a  certain  iiuiiil)er;  let  us  suppose,  at 
first,  five  in  succession,  and  then,  after  a  longer  in- 
terval, four  more.  This  signifies  to  the  mind  that 
the  fire-bell  is  striking  for  Station  54.  Here,  again, 
little  or  no  conscious  work  of  reasoning  nuiy  be 
done  ;  although  it  is  likely  that  the  flow  of  the  men- 
tal life  could  be  expressed  in  some  such  succession 
of  judgments  as  the  fc^llowing:  "  Fire-bdl  is  stHk- 
iii<r — five  times,  four  times;  that  nuians  Station  r)4." 
J>ut  now  shall  it   be  said   that   there  is  no  added 


160  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

reasoning  needed  to  reach  the  judgment — "There 
is  a  fire  near  the  corner  of  A  and  B  streets  "  ?  Here, 
too,  the  actual  amount  of  conscious  reasoning  woukl 
plainly  depend  upon  the  character  of  the  previous 
experience.  For  to  the  mind  of  the  chief  of  the  fire- 
department  the  alarm  54  is  an  immediate  excitant 
of  the  thought  of  a  fire  in  that  locality.  But  for  the 
stranger  in  town  it  might  lead  simply  to  an  inquiry, 
which  could  be  answered  only  b}^  a  concluding  judg- 
ment that  must  be  itself  reasoned  out. 

Nature  of  True  Reasoning — It  is  now  possible  to 
see  more  clearly  what  is  the  real  nature  of  all  those 
mental  acts  which  are  entitled  to  be  called  "  acts  of 
reasoning,"  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  word.  For 
suppose  that,  in  the  foregoing  case,  or  in  any  simi- 
lar case,  after  a  thoughtful  pause,  the  conclusion 
follows  as  something  consciously  derived  from  cer- 
tain "  reasons  "  or  "  grounds."  How  do  you  know 
that  this  succession — five  and  then  four — of  peculiar 
sounds  means  a  fire  at  the  corner  of  A  and  B  streets  ? 
Because  I  see  that  it  says  so  on  the  card  I  have  taken 
from  my  pocket ;  or  because  I  remember  hearing  a 
fireman  say  so  only  the  other  day.  Whenever  we 
are  conscious  of  making  such  a  connection  between 
two  judgments  as  that  one  of  them  is  related  by  us 
to  one  or  more  other  judgments  as  finding  in  them 
its  reason  or  cause,  then  we  are  "  reasoning,"  in  the 
highest  sense  of  the  word.  In  a  single  sentence : 
Genuine  logical  inference,  or  reasoniiig,  takes  place 
whenever  two  judgments  are  mentally  related  in  such 
manner  that  one  is  made  the  "  reason  "  {or  "  ground  ")  of 


EEASONING  AND   KNOWLEDGE  161 

the  other,  with  a  consciousness  of  the  relation  thus  estab- 
lished between  them. 

The  mncli-debated  question,  whether  the  h^wer 
auimals  are  capable  of  reasoniiii^-,  must  be  considered 
in  the  light  of  this  definition.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  they  often  appear  exceedingly  ingenious 
in  adapting  means  to  ends.  Some  of  them,  which 
do  not  appear,  as  judged  by  the  perfection  of  their 
nervous  system,  to  be  among  the  highest  in  the  scale 
of  intellectual  life — such  as  ants,  bees,  and  many 
kinds  of  beetles — exhibit  signs  of  wonderful  "  intel- 
ligence." Some  of  the  plants  also  give  signs  some- 
what similar.  Unlike  most  plants,  however,  the  high- 
er animals  frequently  break  the  bonds  of  habit,  and 
thus  do  things  "out  of  their  usual  line,"  as  though 
in  adaptation  to  an  emergency.  Bright  children 
astonish  us  by  signs  of  apparent  extraordinary  intel- 
ligence of  the  same  kind.  Yet,  if  we  question  them 
as  to  why  they  concluded  that  this,  rather  than  some- 
thing else,  was  the  proper  thing  to  do,  they  can  per- 
haps give  no  "reason  "  or  "  ground"  as  having  oc- 
curred to  them.  It  is  doubtful  whether  an  animal 
ever  "reasons"  in  the  sense  of  the  word  Avhich  has 
just  been  explained.  For  example,  does  the  learned 
dog  which  has  been  taught  to  bring  his  mastci-  ;iii 
umbrella,  if  it  is  raining,  but  a  cane,  if  it  is  fair, 
ever  really  conclude:  "The;  uiiil)ivll;i  is  llic  light 
thing,  because  it  is  raining;"  or,  "Since  it  is  fair, 
therefore  the  cane  only  will  be  needed"  ? 

Nature  of  the  Reason,  or  "  Ground."— Tl  has  just 
been  seen  that  reasoidixj,  piopcrly  speaking,  tiwilres 
11 


162  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

conscious  7'c cognition  of  a  relation  between  two  or  more 
Judgments  ;  such  as  that  one  of  them  is  "  concluded  " 
from  the  others  as  its  ^'reason''  or  'Aground.''''  Tims 
we  often  say,  "I  can  see  no  good  reason  for  that:  " 
or,  "  You  have  absolutely  no  ground  for  your  con- 
clusion to  stand  upon."  And  now  the  further  inquiry 
might  be  raised  :  What  is  it,  then,  for  one  judgment 
to  stand  related  to  another  as  to  its  reason  or  ground  ? 
What  is  the  essential  thing  about  this  very  relation 
of  judgments  in  every  act  of  reasoning  ?  And  here 
the  books  on  logic  point  to  the  nature  of  the  so- 
called  "  Middle  Term." 

Let  us  take  an  example.  Suppose  that  I  see  a 
crocodile,  or  read  a  description  of  one,  for  the  first 
time.  Now,  the  question  arises  whether  a  crocodile 
is  a  mammal  or  not  (that  is,  Avhether  its  young-  are 
born,  and  nursed  by  the  mother,  or  hatched  from 
eggs,  and  not  nursed).  I  inquire  to  find  some 
"reason"  or  "ground"  for  judging  one  way  or  the 
other — that  is,  for  the  conclusion  Avhich  I  am  to  make 
as  the  reasonable  and  well-grounded  one.  I  observe, 
or  am  told,  that  the  crocodile  is  a  cold-blooded  ani- 
mal. I  remember  that  all  mammals  are  warm-blooded 
animals.  And  at  once  I  draw  the  conclusion,  as  the 
necessary  and  inevitable  thing :  "  The  crocodile  is 
not  a  mammal."  This  act  of  reasoning  may  be  ex- 
pressed as  follows:  Not-a-mammal  is  affirmed  (or 
predicated)  of  the  subject  crocodile,  because  not- 
warm-blooded  is  affirmed  of  it ;  whereas,  on  the  con- 
trary, warm-blooded  must  be  affirmed  of  every  mam- 
mal. 


REASONING    AND   KNOWLEDGE  163 

If,  now,  we  throw  the  statement  of  this  mental  proc- 
ess into  general  terms,  and  then  express  it  by  the 
relations  of  letters,  we  maj'  choose  any  one  of  several 
forms.  We  may  say,  for  example  ;  -6^  is  (or  is  not) 
P,  because  it  is  (or  is  not)  J/,-  or,  If  S  is  M,  then  it 
is  also  P(why?  hecause  JfisP);  ox  hecame  JlisP 
and  xS'is  3f,  therefore  S  is  P  All  the  while,  however 
— and  in  whatever  way  the  case  be  put — it  is  onr 
knowledge  of  J/ which  determines  whether  we  shall 
conclude  that  S  is  or  is  not  P.  In  the  case  just 
given,  being  "  warm-blooded  "  is  the  "  middle  term," 
so-called,  and  it  determines  that  the  crocodile  cannot 
be  concluded  to  be  a  mammal,  because  all  mammals 
are  warm  -  blooded,  but  the  crocodile  is  not  warm- 
blooded. 

It  is  in  view  of  this  relation  of  the  middle  term  in 
every  act  of  reasoning,  to  both  parts  of  the  conclud- 
ing judgment,  that  reasoning  itself  is  sometimes 
called  "  immediate  judgment,"  or  judging  through 
some  m/'dioJing  conception,  or  middle  term. 

Kinds  of  Reasoning. — There  are,  of  course,  as  many 
principal  kinds  of  reasoning  as  there  are  principal 
kinds  of  relations  Avhicli  ditFerent  classes  of  objects 
may  sustain  to  each  other.  And  here  let  us  refer  at 
once  to  the  different  main  kinds  of  judgments  (see  p. 
153).  First,  there  is  reasoning  along  the  line  of 
resemblances  and  differences.  If  two  things  are 
both  sufficiently  like  a  third  thing,  then  tlu^y  arc 
like  each  other  ;  they  Ix^long  to  one  class,  and  desi-rve 
a  common  name.  AVliai  it  is  to  hv  "  sufficiently 
like"  can  never  bo  determined  once  for  all.     Heuco 


164  PRIMEP.   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

the  classifications  of  tlie  sciences,  with  their  names, 
are  constantly  liable  to  change.  New  and  important 
differences  in  things  hitherto  thought  to  be  "  suffi- 
ciently alike  "  may  be  observed ;  and  this  observa- 
tion will  "npset"  our  previous  conclusions  regard- 
ing them.  Second  :  some  trains  of  reasoning — as  in 
mathemathics  and  measurement — argue  about  quan- 
tities and  their  relations,  comparing  them  with  one 
another  through  one  or  more  middle  terms,  and  thus 
drawing  conclusions  as  to  equality,  or  difference,  in 
a  great  variety  of  subordinate  forms.  Yet  again, 
third  :  some  change  may  be  noticed  and  the  conclu- 
sion drawn  that  it  is  due  to  the  action  of  some  par- 
ticular agent ;  for  the  reason  that  something  which 
is  known  as  a  common  sign  of  that  agent  is  con- 
nected with  that  particular  change. 

Forms  and  Figures  of  Reasoning. — It  is  customary 
in  logic  to  distinguish  between  those  forms  of  rea- 
soning in  which  a  single  sentence  connects  the  con- 
cluding judgment  immediately  with  its  reason,  by 
the  words  "  therefore  "  or  "  because  "  (the  enthymeme  ; 
for  example  :  "  The  President  is  fallible,  because  he  is 
a  man  "),  and  the  fuller  forms  in  which  the  grounds  of 
the  conclusion  are  stated  in  two  separate  sentences 
called  the  "  premises  "  of  the  argument.  As  an  ex- 
ample of  the  latter  we  may  make  a  "  syllogism " 
out  of  the  reasoning  about  the  crocodile — thus  :  All 
mammals  are  warm-blooded  animals  :  the  crocodile 
is  not  a  warm-blooded  animal ;  therefore  the  croco- 
dile is  not  a  mammal. 

Since  there  are  different  ways  of  arranging  the 


EEASONIXG  AND   KNOWLEDGE  165 

subject  (S)  and  the  predicate  (P)  of  tlie  concluding- 
judgment,  and  also  the  middle  term  (M)  -which 
forms  the  link  in  the  argument  that  binds  subject 
and  predicate  together,  different  "  figures  "  of  the 
syllogism  arise.  These  three,  as  expressed  in  let- 
ters, are  customarily  recognized : 


I. 

II. 

III. 

IT  is  F 

Pis  J/ 

J/is  P 

S  is  J/ 

or 

Sis  M 

J/ is  ;S' 

•.•  Sis  P  \-  S  is  P  •:  S  is  P 

Induction  and  Deduction — These  two  forms  of  rea- 
soning- are  customaril}-  distinguished  in  something- 
like the  following  way  :  If  a  number  of  individual 
cases  are  observed  to  be  all  alike  in  one  or  more  par- 
ticulars, then  Ave  leap  to  the  conclusion  that  they  are 
alike  in  all  essential  respects  ;  that  they  belong-  to 
one  class  ;  and  that  "  all "  the  individuals  of  this  class 
have  these  common  characters.  This  is  making  an 
induction.  It  will  be  noticed  that  this  argument 
goes  from  the  i^articular  to  the  general  or  universal, 
from  the  individual  case  to  the  class.  If,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  general  principle  is  already  known,  and  wo 
then  come  across  an  "individual"  Avhicli  seems,  in 
8orne  respects,  to  fall  under  tlie  [)riiicii)]e,  wo  at 
once  conclude  that  this  individual  falls  under  the 
principle  in  all  important  respects.  H(M-o  we  argue 
from  the  general  to  the  particular  ;  from  \\\o  rule  to 
the  case;  from  the  class  to  the  individual  hkiiiIx')-  of 
the  class.  So  far  as  ///<■  iiicntnl  (idUm  is  concerned, 
/unuever,  it  is  essenlially  the  6'rt^/<e  in  both  iiulnclinn  mul 


166  PEIMER  OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

deduction;  inhotlithe  m^gument  consists  inreaching  one 
judgment  as  a  conclusion,  hy  starting  from  other  jndg- 
ments  as  its  reason  or  ground. 

The  instance  already  nsed  may  illustrate  tliis  dif- 
ference also.  Suppose  that,  on  lirst  seeing  a  croco- 
dile, I  find  by  actual  observation  that  it  is  "  a  cold- 
blooded animal."  The  next  animal  which  I  observe 
that  has  all  the  other  more  apparent  characters  of  a 
crocodile,  I  expect  to  find  "  cold-blooded  "  also.  If 
several  crocodiles  have  actually  been  found  to  have 
this  character,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  :  "  All  croco- 
diles are  cold-blooded  animals ; "  and  great  would 
be  my  astonishment  to  find  one  that  was  not  so.  In 
aifirming-  this  general  character  of  the  class,  I  hav^e 
made  an  induction.  But  now  I  am  still  in  doubt 
whether  the  crocodile  is  a  mammal  or  not.  This 
question,  however,  I  settle  by  a  deductive  argument 
— that  is,  by  referring  it  to  the  principle  already  es- 
tablished: " iVo  cold-blooded  animal  is  a  mammal" 
(comp.  p.  162). 

Principle  of  all  Argument. — But,  how — it  may  be 
asked — does  one  venture  at  all  to  argue  so  confi- 
dently from  what  one  immediately  knows,  by  observ- 
ing it,  to  what  is  still  unknown  ?  Whence  comes  this 
assurance  that,  if  several  crocodiles  are  observed  to 
be  cold-blooded,  we  do  not  need  to  examine  the 
next  one,  but  may  infer  that  it,  too,  is  so  *?  Might 
not  that  very  next  crocodile  turn  out  to  be  warm- 
blooded ?  And  what  should  we  do  then  with  our 
confidence  in  our  reasoning  powers  ?  To  one  of 
these  questions,  the  answer  must  undoubtedly  be ; 


REASONING   AND   KNOWLEDGE  167 

Yes,  the  next  animal,  wliich  seemed  in  all  other  re- 
spects like  those  "sve  had  already  seen,  migJd  turn  out 
unlike  them  even  in  so  important  a  character  as  this. 
Then  one  of  several  diffierent  thing-s  would  have  to 
be  concluded :  Either  this  animal  oug'ht  not  to  be 
called  a  crocodile,  because  it  is  not  cold-blooded  ;  or 
some  crocodiles  only  are  cold-blooded,  and  there  are, 
at  least,  two  kinds  of  crocodiles ;  or  else,  perhaps, 
here  is  an  astonishing?  "  freak  "  in  old  Dame  Nature 
that  she  should  produce  a  warm-blooded  crocodile. 

In  any  event,  however,  we  should  g-o  right  on 
trusting-  our  reasoning  powers  in  general ;  and,  in- 
deed, what  choice  could  we  possibly  have  in  such  a 
matter,  since  we  could  not  even  distrust  them  by 
arguing  against  them,  except  by  using  them  with 
confidence  ?  Only  we  should  get  mare  and  more 
cautious  in  our  particular  inductions  and  deductions ; 
and  this  would  produce  the  development  desired  of 
these  same  reasoning  powers.  For  example,  a  child 
may  be  at  first  inclined  to  drink  from  any  cup  of 
milk  brought  to  it,  or  to  put  out  its  hand  to  pat 
every  dog  it  meets.  But  being-  burned  or  bitten 
once,  it  might  conclude  :  no  milk  is  safe  to  drink, 
no  dog  is  safe  to  pat.  Yet  next  it  learns  the  signs 
of  difference,  and  so  concludes:  some  cups  of  milk 
(and  what  ones)  are  safe;  to  drink  ;  some  dogs  (and 
what  ones)  do  not  bite  when  they  are  caressed. 

The  principh^  which  is  sometimes  said  to  under- 
lie all  reasoning  is  called  "  tht;  |»riiiciplc  of  sulli- 
cient  reason."  lint,  so  far  as  psychology  can  go, 
this  simply  means  that  the  mind  actually  does  keep 


168  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

on  drawing-  conclusions  on  grounds,  or  reasons, 
wliicli  it  deems  "  sufficient  "  for  that  very  end.  That 
is,  we  have  now  reached  an  ultimate  principle — one 
beyond  which  psychology  has  nothing  to  oifer  in 
explaining  the  behavior  of  the  mind. 

Tests  of  Reasoning — The  reasons  which  one  is 
practically  obliged  to  take  as  "  sufficient  "  for  one's 
conclusions  are  very  different  indeed  under  different 
circumstances  and  with  different  classes  of  subjects. 
In  mathematics  they  are  of  an  entirely  different 
order  from  those  which  one  is  obliged  to  follow  in 
life.  And  this  is  not  because  mathematics  is  so  real 
and  the  more  doubtful  practical  conclusions  so  un- 
real ;  but  just  the  contrary.  It  is  "  pure "  mathe- 
matics which  is  totally  unreal  ;  and  that  is  one 
reason  whj^  men  can  argue  about  it  so  confidently. 
Its  conceptions  and  terms  can  be  considered  without 
regard  to  real  facts,  by  a  process  of  abstraction. 
But  we  cannot  deal  this  way  with  nature,  much  less 
with  human  conduct.  In  these  spheres  we  can  only 
reach,  by  reasoning,  what  is  more  or  less  liliely  to 
be  true.  It  is  not  absolutely  certain  that  the  sun  will 
rise  to-morrow,  or  that  the  man  who  jumps  from  a 
window  in  the  sixth  story  will  get  hurt.  But  those 
are  called  "  fools  "  who  do  not  reason  and  act  as 
though  it  were  so. 

The  physical  sciences  are  constantly  being  disap- 
pointed and  going  wrong,  in  both  their  inductions 
and  their  deductions.  The  popular  impression  that 
they  have  arrived  at  fixed,  unchanging,  and  abso- 
lutely indubitable  laws  is  quite  wrong.     But  gradu- 


REASONINa   AND   KNOWLEDGE  169 

ally  they  are  correcting-  their  past  mistakes,  verify- 
ing their  correct  guesses,  and  biiildiug-  up  a  struct- 
ure of  well-reasoned  conclusions  based  on  valid 
grounds. 

In  testing  their  inductions,  or  "jumps  "  to  general 
conclusions,  the  sciences  make  use  of  certain  so- 
called  "  methods  "  or  "  rules."  Among  these  the 
following  three  are  most  important  :  (1)  The 
method  of  agreement;  (2)  the  method  of  differ- 
ence ;  and  (3)  the  method  of  concomitant  variation. 
By  the  first  rule  it  is  meant  that  objects  or  events 
which  are  in  any  way  known  to  have  like  qualities  or 
conditions  may  safely  be  inferred  to  belong  to  the 
same  class  or  to  be  due  to  the  same  causes.  By  the 
second  rule  it  is  meant  that,  when  objects  or  events 
differ  in  important  ways,  they  must  be  inferred  to 
belong  to  different  classes  or  to  be  due  to  different 
causes.  And  by  the  third  rule  it  is  meant  that, 
where  two  or  more  different  objects  or  events  vary 
with  proportional  intensities,  it  may  safely  be  in- 
ferred that  they  belong  to  the  same  class  or  are  due 
to  the  same  causes. 

Nature  of  Knowledge — We  constantly  hoar  men 
saying :  "  I  hiov:)  that  this  is  (or  is  not)  true  ;  "  or,  "  I 
know  (or  do  not  know)  this  object  (or  that  person)." 
Such  a  saying  excites  no  surprise  ;  for  that  knowl- 
edge should  be,  in  any  sense,  a  mystery,  it  has  i)rob- 
ably  never  occurred  to  most  jicrsous  to  susi)ect. 
Yet,  as  one  of  our  modern  students  of  iiinil.il  life 
has  truly  said  :  "  The  relation  ofhiow'uKj  is  tlie  most 
mysterious  tiling  in  tln'  world."     In  view  of  wliat 


170  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

has  already  been  shown  as  to  the  nature  of  percep- 
tion, judg-ment,  and  reasoning,  it  must  be  apparent 
that  the  popular  use  of  this  Avord  "  knowledge  "  is 
very  loose  and  often  inaccurate.  Can  a  man  I'noio 
what  is  not  true  ?  Can  he  hioio  that  yonder  object 
is  a  cow,  when  it  is  indeed  a  horse  ;  or  that  he  met 
Mr.  X.  upon  the  street  yesterday,  because  he  saw 
him  plainly,  when  Mr.  X.  has  already  proved  that 
he  was  a  hundred  miles  away  at  that  very  hour  ? 
How,  too,  shall  one  know  whether  there  are  or  are 
not  g'hosts  (or  black  swans  or  warm-blooded  croco- 
diles) ;  or  even  that,  in  some  other  planet,  heavy  (?) 
bodies  may  not  tend  to  fly  away  from  each  other 
rather  than  to  approach  ?  For  if  there  is  any  gen- 
eral truth  which  may  be  known,  it  is  this,  that  men 
liave  claimed  (and  do  still  claim)  to  know,  beyond  a 
doubt,  almost  every  conceivable  absurdity. 

Shall  the  word  "  knowledge,"  however,  be  so  re- 
stricted as  to  apply  it  only  to  what  is  absolutely  be- 
yond all  doubt  ?  This  would  perhaps  be  found  to 
limit  its  sphere  unduly  ;  for  it  might  appear  that, 
for  each  one,  only  his  own  present  state  of  mind,  as 
such,  is  known  as  "  absolutely  beyond  all  doubt." 
The  final  answer  to  such  questions,  however,  does 
not  belong  to  psychology,  but  to  a  department  of 
philosophy  which  is  called  "theory  of  knowledge." 

Belief  and  Knowledge. — One  important  truth  is 
brought  to  our  notice  by  the  way  in  which  the  word 
knowledge  is  ordinarily  used.  There  is  a  sort  of 
conviction,  certainty,  belief,  in  all  knowledge. 
"  Belief  "  is  sometimes  opposed  to  "  knowledge,"  as 


EEASOlSriNG   AND   KNOWLEDGE  171 

tlious'h  tlie  two  were  contradictory ;  and,  indeed, 
mei'e  belief  is  not  enough  to  warrant  knowledge. 
But  witliout  belief,  of  a  certain  sort,  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  knowledge.  It  is  a  curious  and  interesting- 
illustration  of  this  truth  to  notice  how  men  bring 
their  fist  down  hard  upon  the  table,  or  stamp  their 
foot  upon  the  ground,  or  "  pounce  upon  "  their  words 
with  great  emphasis,  when  they  are  telling  what 
they  believe  they  know.  "  It  is  this,  and  not  that," 
they  say  in  the  warmest  possible  way.  "  I  tell  you 
I  know  it  is  so."  This  is  not  a  sentence  w^hicli  most 
men,  when  contradicted,  are  apt  to  say  without  some 
evidence  of  aglow  of  conviction.  In  fact,  to  say,  "  I 
feel  perfectly  sure,"  is,  in  i^o^Dular  speech,  the  same 
thing  as  to  say,  "  I  know.''''  This  belief — as  it  were — 
slumbers  in  all  knowledge,  but  is  apt  to  be  aroused 
as  soon  as  what  we  consider  our  knowledge  is  called 
in  question.  It  has  been  called  an  "emotion  of 
conviction  "  by  one  writer.  It  exists  as  truly  in  the 
man  who  "  coolly "  (?)  refuses  to  discuss  his  pet 
theory  in  science,  politics,  or  religion,  as  in  the  man 
who  affirms  his  theory  with  the  greatest  apparent 
fanaticism. 

Development  of  Knowledge — Oui-  past  study  has 
shown  us  that,  in  no  unmeaning  use  of  the  words, 
all  knowledifc  is  a  development.  That  knowledge  of 
tilings  which  we  call  "  immediate,"  and  which  comes 
witli  the  use  of  the  senses,  is  really  ;i,  matter  of 
growth.  The  infant  had  to  h^arn,  and  acin.illy  did 
learn,  to  know  its  own  bodv',  wUli  cmcIi  df  its  particu- 
lar members,  its  (nvii   sell',  nml  all  lln'  tliiii.L's  Jliat 


172  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

now  make  up  the  world  of  its  experience.  Yes,  since 
every  perception  by  tlie  senses,  and  every  full  act  of 
self-consciousness,  is  an  activity  tliat  takes  place 
onl}^  as  a  process  in  time,  it  is  an  important  truth 
that  each  single  "  knowledge  "  is  a  growth,  a  de- 
velopment ;  while  no  one  would  think  of  disputing 
,that  tlie  body  of  knowledge  which  belongs  to  the  in- 
dividual or  to  the  race  is  a  matter  of  growth. 

Another  truth  to  be  noticed  is  that,  in  the  attain- 
ment and  growth  of  knowledge,  all  the  activities  of 
the  mind  are  involved.  That  this  is  true,  so  far  as 
all  the  forms  of  intellectual  activities  are  concerned, 
is  readily  apparent.  Judgment,  memory,  imagina- 
tion, and  even  reasoning,  have  all  been  seen  to  be 
employed  in  attaining  a  knowledge  of  things 
through  the  senses.  Feeling  also  is  undoubtedly 
involved  in  the  attainment  and  growth  of  knowledge. 
As  Goethe  says  :  "  All  comes  at  last  to  feeling ;"  and 
"  What  you  don't  feel  you'll  never  catch."  This  is 
indeed  an  exaggerated  way  of  stating  the  truth. 
But  it  has  just  been  seen  how  one  form  of  feeling— a 
sovf  <jf  "emotion  or  conviction" — is  found  in  all  our 
knowledge.  The  primary  kinds  of  feeling',  such  as 
isurprise,  expectation,  anger,  fear,  and  hope,  enter 
into  and  modify  all  our  processes  of  perception  and 
reasoning.  He  who  expects  or  dreads  to  see  any 
particular  object  will  have  what  he  actually  does 
see  influenced  by  his  expectation  or  his  dread. 
Every  sound  is  interpreted  as  being  this  rather 
than  some  other  sound,  under  the  influence  of  latent 
or  more  obvious  emotion.     And  that  the  will  takes 


REASONING   AND   KNOWLEDGE  173 

part  in  tlie  production  of  tlie  state  of  knowledge  is 
seen  to  be  true  as  soon  as  we  recall  that  attention  is 
necessar}^  to  knowledg-e,  and  that  the  direction  of 
attention  is  so  largely  a  matter  of  Avill ;  as  well  as 
that  our  knowledge  of  things  is  so  dependent  upon 
all  the  use  and  control  of  the  movable  parts  of  the 
bodj^ ;  and  that  this  is  also  so  much  a  matter  of  will. 
As  to  the  knowdcdge  of  ourselves,  we  may  quote 
again  from  Goethe  :  "  How  can  a  man  learn  to  know 
himself  ?     By  reflection  never,  only  by  action." 

Kinds  of  Knowledge — All  acts  of  knowledge  may 
be  divided  into  classes  according  to  two  or  three 
different  principles.  Thus  all  knowledge  is  either 
(1)  immediate,  or  (2)  inferential.  Immediate  knowl- 
edge is  such  as  is  got  in  our  use  of  the  senses,  or  in 
the  observation  of  our  own  states  Avhen  we  do  no 
conscious  reasoning.  Inferential  knowledge  is  such, 
on  the  other  hand,  as  is  reached  by  consciously 
reasoning  from  premises  to  conclusion,  or  from  one 
judgment  to  another. 

But  if  the  processes  of  knowledge  are  considered 
according  to  the  classes  of  objects  known,  two  kinds 
may  also  be  distinguished.  These  are :  (1)  the 
knowledge  of  Self,  and  (2)  the  knowledge  of  things. 
The  former  might  then  be  said  to  come  by  way  of 
self-consciousness  (compare  p.  30f.)  and  tlu^  latter 
tlirough  perception  by  the  senses.  But  this  would 
apply  only  to  immediate  knowledge;  foi'  knowledge 
about  ourselves  and  also  about  things  nMpiircs  l*t)r 
its  attainment  and  growtli  just  the  same  use  of  Uk* 
powers  of  coiicc]d\(m,  judgiucnt,  and  rrasoiiing. 


174  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

rinall}^  it  may  be  said  that  by  knowledge  all  tlie 
individual  experiences  are  related  together  so  as  to 
become  parts  of  a  system.  Thus  we  may  think  of 
the  growth  ofknowledge  as  a  sort  of  progressive  organ- 
ization of  experience  itself. 


CHAPTER  XI 

EMOTIONS,   SENTIMENTS,   AND  DESIRES 

Important  cliang-es  take  place  in  the  character  of 
the  feelings  as  the  life  of  knowledg-e  grows.  As  we 
gain  experience  of  ourselves,  and  of  things  and  our 
relations  to  them,  this  "  feeling-aspect "  of  con- 
sciousness becomes  more  and  more  complex.  Many- 
curious  and  interesting  mixtures  and  conflicts  also 
take  place  among  the  more  simple  forms  of  the  feel- 
ings themselves  ;  this  fact,  too,  increases  the  variety 
and  complex  character  of  the  more  highly  devel- 
oped life  of  feeling.  Still  further,  many  of  the 
stronger  feelings  especially  produce  very  important 
and  almost  immediate  changes  in  the  conditions  of 
the  Ijodily  organs.  These  changes  in  turn  make 
themselves  felt  l)y  the  mind  ;  and  this  itself  pro- 
duces new  modifications  of  feeling.  Once  more, 
there  are  few  or  none  of  the  feelings  that  do  not 
quickly  incite  the  desire  to  do  something.  They 
are  themselves  <'ither  painful  or  pleasurable  (see 
p.  59f.) ;  and  they  have  reference  to  objects  that  may 
possibly  be  avoided  or  gained.  As  oik;  might  say 
— speaking  in  ;iii  abstract  wuy — tlicy  tind  Id  move 
the  will  ;  they  are  "motives"  ov  forceful  inlliicuccs 
to  soDie  [(U'lii  of  aclJDii.  This  cll'icl  on  lln-  iiiiiid 
also  makes  itself  strongly  felt. 


176  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

Classes  of  Feelings — It  can  scarcely  be  considered 
strange,  after  wliat  lias  already  (p.  56)  been  said,  if  it 
is  again  found  necessary  to  confess  tliat  human  feel- 
ings are  too  varied  and  complex  to  be  strictly  clas- 
sified. This  is  actually  the  case.  There  has  never 
been,  and  there  never  will  be,  any  wholly  satisfactory 
classification  of  the  feelings.  AVe  shall,  however, 
on  grounds  which  will  be  made  more  clear  later  on, 
distinguish  between  the  emotions  and  the  sentiments. 
If,  then,  those  states  are  also  considered,  where 
either  the  emotions  or  the  sentiments  begin  to  oper- 
ate somewhat  strongly  to  influence  the  will,  to  in- 
duce or  move  us  to  do  something,  a  third  class, 
called  the  desii'es,  may  be  distinguished.  It  is  of  the 
emotions,  the  sentiments,  and  the  desires  that  this 
chapter  treats.  Only  it  should  be  understood  that 
the  last  of  the  three  classes  (the  desires)  empha- 
sizes especially  those  states  in  which  mere  feeling 
tends  to  pass  over  into  willing. 

Nature  of  an  Emotion. — In  order  that  any  form  of 
feeling  may  become  an  emotion,  two  things  are 
chiefly  necessary.  The  first  of  these  is  that  the  feel- 
ing itself  should  acquire  a  certain  intensity.  All 
know  well  enough  what  is  meant  by  the  intensity  of 
a  feeling,  just  as  directly  and  undoubtedly  as  they 
know  Avhat  is  meant  by  the  intensity  of  a  sensation. 
On  account  of  its  so-called  internal  and  subjective 
character,  however,  there  are  no  means  of  measuring 
the  intensity  of  feelings  as  there  are  of  measuring 
the  intensity  of  sensations.  When  any  consider- 
able increase  in  the  intensity  of  any  form  of  feeling 


EMOTIONS,  SENTIMENTS,  AND   DESIRES        177 

takes  place,  this  increase  soon  produces  a  variety  of 
changes  in  the  condition  of  the  different  bodily  or- 
gans— such  as  the  skin,  the  muscles,  the  action  of 
the  heart  and  lungs,  and  so  of  the  parts  used  in 
swallowing  and  of  the  whole  digestive  canal,  etc. 
These  changes  are  now  themselves  felt ;  and  the  feel- 
ing of  them  constitutes  the  second  important  char- 
acteristic of  an  emotion.  Considerable  intensity  of  feel- 
ing and  the  "  tinge"  or  "  siiffusion"  of  consciousness  hy 
the  resulting  hodily  developments  ("  the  hodily  reson- 
ance ")  are  then  the  more  notahle  features  of  every 
emotion. 

Primary  Kinds  of  Emotions — Some  forms  of  human 
feeling,  which  may  be  classed  among  the  emotions, 
are  of  the  most  elementary  and  universal  character. 
Not  only  are  they  found  among  all  human  beings 
very  early  in  life,  but  even  the  lower  animals  ex- 
hibit plain  signs  of  similar  forms  of  feeling.  Of 
these  perhaps  the  most  important  are  anger,  fear, 
grief  and  joy,  astonishment,  curiosity,  jealousy,  and 
sympathy.  These  involve,  of  necessity,  only  a  very 
low  development  of  mind  ;  but  they  may  be  said  to 
be  related  in  the  order  above  named,  to  the  growth 
of  ideas  and  to  the  accpiirement  of  experience.  For 
example,  if  one  grasps  the  hand  of  a  young  ciiild, 
or  in  any  way  opposes  its  free  movement,  one  may 
arouse  physical  signs  of  feeling  similar  to  those 
exhiljited  Avhen  one  sets  one's  cane  in  the  path  of  a 
serpent  or  a  young  alligator.  Infants  also  show 
signs  of  fear  before  they  can  possibly  I'wnv  anything 
to  be  afraid  of.     One  observer  noticeil  fear  of  cats 


178  PRIMEE   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

ill  a  g-irl  of  only  fourteen  weeks  old  ;  another  beard 
the  cry  of  fear,  at  the  barking-  of  a  dog',  in  a  child  of 
the  same  ag-e.  Astonishment  is  the  emotion  of 
strong-  surprise,  and  is  closely  connected  with  both 
fear  and  joy.  Curiosity,  too,  manifests  itself  in 
children,  as  in  certain  young-  animals,  by  a  sort  of 
Xihj'sical  and  mental  restlessness,  long  before  any 
real  "  intellectual  curiosity,"  as  an  affair  of  intelli- 
gent choice  of  ends,  can  arise.  Even  sympathj^  is 
originally  instinctive,  blind,  and  common  to  man 
with  the  lower  animals.  Indeed,  one  may  properly 
use  this  word  for  that  tendency  to  "  harmonize  "  our 
consciousness  with  that  of  others,  which  is  quite 
universal.  Children  and  adults  "  get  mad,"  and 
g-rieve,  and  fear,  and  wonder,  in  company. 

Development  of  an  Emotion. — Every  emotion  runs  a 
course,  as  it  were,  although  it  may  seem  to  spring- 
into  being-  at  once.  Some  idea,  thought,  memory, 
or  it  may  be  merely  sensory  agitation,  arouses  a  sort 
of  local  storm  in  certain  nerve-centres  of  the  brain. 
This  storm  spreads  from  centre  to  centre,  as  it  were  ; 
it  sweeps  down  the  nerve-tracts  that  lead  to  the  ex- 
ternal parts  of  the  bod}^  to  the  skin,  muscles,  and 
joints,  to  the  heart,  and  lungs,  and  other  viscera. 
Flushes  or  chills,  shiverings  and  "  goose-pimples," 
start  out  on  the  skin,  and  its  tension  over  the  under- 
lying organs  is  changed.  The  muscles  become  more 
rigid  or  flabby  than  usual ;  some  of  them  are  con- 
tracted and  others  relaxed.  The  jaws  fall  or  become 
set ;  the  heart  beats  faster  or  slower,  or  else  it  flut- 
ters wildly  and  stands  still.     The  character  of  the 


EMOTIONS,  SENTIMENTS,  AND   DESIRES        179 

respiratiou  and  tlio  coiiditiou  of  the  glottis  aud  dia- 
phragm change.  Weeping,  sobbing,  sighing,  "  catch- 
ing  breath,"  etc.,  occur.  Strange  internal  agitations 
make  themselves  felt.  Taken  altogether,  this  may 
be  called  the  "bodilj^  resonance,"  or  "somatic  reac- 
tion," awakened  bv  the  effect  of  the  intense  feeling 
on  the  organs  through  disturbance  of  the  brain.  It 
mixes  itself  with  the  more  purely  ideal  feeling  and 
gives  it  a  coarsened  and  more  strictly  "  emotional 
character." 

There  is  an  indefinite  variety  to  these  bodily 
effects  of  the  emotions.  Each  emotion  has  its  pecul- 
iar characteristics,  and  yet  individual  persons  differ 
in  resjject  of  them.  Various  admixtures  of  the  emo- 
tions also  take  place.  In  anger  the  jaws  are  apt  to 
be  set  and  the  teeth  grind  together ;  creepings  and 
"  goose-pimples  "  come  over  the  skin.  The  muscles 
are  tense  in  those  organs  needed  for  offence  or  de- 
fence. But  some  are  pale  and  some  flushed  when 
they  are  angry;  and  some  tend  to  run  away  with 
fright  or  collapse  with  internal  agitation,  whilo/ 
others  tend  to  "  brace  ui^  "  and  fight  (cither  the  ob- 
ject that  angers  them  or  the  passion  in  themselves). 
In  extreme  fear,  again,  the  neck  is  bent,  the  jaws  and 
cheeks  relaxed,  the  slioulders  collapse,  the  arms 
hang,  the  legs  drag,  the  viscera  quiver,  the  heart 
beats  wildly  or  stops  still.  The  feeling  of  tliese 
bodily  changes  intensifies  the  emotion  itself. 

But  in  tlie  case  of  all  strong  emotions  a  climax  is 
reached,  and  then  the  storm  begins  to  abate.  What 
is  called  a  "reaction"  comes  on.      //i  their  /liyhly 


180  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

emotional  for  m  all  the  feelings  run,  as  it  ^vere,  a  so?'t  of 
limited  physiological  career. 

Emotions  and  Thoughts. — It  is  not,  of  course,  upon 
the  bodily  organs  alone  that  all  the  intenser  forms 
of  feeling-  make  themselves  felt.  Nothing"  in  onr  ex- 
perience is  any  plainer  than  the  fact  that  the 
thoughts  are  "  disturbed  "  by  the  emotions.  In  men 
of  strong  character  and  great  self-control,  a  large 
amount  of  feeling  may  seem  to  quicken  and  im- 
prove their  thinking  powers.  They  are  "  at  their 
best "  when  they  are  strongly  inoved  by  love,  or 
anger,  or  even  by  grief  and  fear.  But  the  effect  of 
much  emotional  disturbance  upon  the  thoughts,  in 
most  cases,  leads  in  either  one  of  two  unfavorable 
directions.  Either  the  mental  images  ajid  acts  of 
judgment  and  reasoning  are  thrown  into  a  sort  of 
wild  confusion,  rendered  "  hurly-burly,"  as  it  were ;  or 
else  they  are  made  stagnant  with  a  kind  of  paral^'sis. 

This  "  upsetting  "  of  the  mental  train,  this  disturb- 
ance of  the  powers  of  thought  and  reasoning,  like 
the  bodily  changes  which  accompany  it,  is  itself 
felt  as  a  profound  modification  of  the  original  feeling. 
Almost  all  know  what  the  feeling  is  which  is  so  sig- 
nificantly called  "  losing  one's  self."  Similar  condi- 
tions of  mind  may  be  produced  1w  certain  drugs ; 
they  also  belong  to  certain  forms  of  insanity.  Some 
insane  persons  are  almost  habitually  in  the  emotional 
state  which  belongs  to  the  feeling  of  a  wild  confu- 
sion of  the  thoughts  ;  others  suffer  from  the  constant 
depressing  feeling  of  a  "  drag "  and  impotency  in 
the  mental  train. 


EMOTIONS,  SENTIMENTS,  AND   DESIKES        181 

Complexity  of  the  Emotions.— All  tlieso  forms  of 
feeliug- — themselves  more  or  less  complex— may  still 
further  combine  or  follow  each  other  in  a  gTeat 
variety  of  ways.  It  has  long-  been  noticed,  and  has 
been  told  in  many  forms  of  literature,  how  apt  the 
mind  is  to  pass  suddenly  from  one  extreme  to 
another.  This  involves  a  further  extension  of  the 
principle  which  we  have  already  seen  (p.  64f.)  to  con- 
trol the  succession  of  pleasures  and  pains.  Not  in- 
frequently the  most  passionate  and  devoted  love 
follows  in  reaction  upon  the  most  extreme  distaste. 
And  few  remarks  are  more  common  than  those  which 
emphasize  the  proverb — "Love  me  little,  love  me 
long-." 

So  also  the  seeming-ly  opposite  emotions  may  bo 
almost  inextricably  mixed  in  the  same  experience  of 
the  soul.  Thus  Plato  describes  the  "  extraordinary 
state  "  of  mind  in  which  the  disciples  of  Socrates 
were  when  they  were  watching-  him  dying-,  as  "  an 
unaccustomed  mixture  of  delight  and  sorrow."  So 
sometimes,  as  we  say,  we  do  not  know  whether  we 
are  most  grieved  or  most  glad.  The  modifying  effect 
of  one  emotion  upon  the  next  succeeding  is  also  a 
matter  of  great  importance.  A  certain  abru[)tuess  of 
chang-e  increases  the  intensity  of  the  emotions.  So 
that  griefs  whicli  come  unexpectedly  "  upon  (lie  li)|) 
of"  joys  oi-  of  ([uiet  contentmenl  ni-c  more  than  oidi- 
narily  poignant;  and  no  joys  nvv  <piit(;  like  those 
whicli  l»ring  relief  to  piccediiig  g-riefs. 

Passions  and  Emotions.  These  two  words  ur(>  poi)- 
ularly  employed  without  any  very  clear  .'lud  fixed 


182  PRIMER  OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

distinction  between  tliem.  Tliiis  the  same  state  of 
feeling-  might  be  spoken  of  as  either  the  "  emotion  " 
or  the  "passion"  of  ang-er,  the  "emotion"  or  the 
"  passion  "  of  jealousy,  etc.  A  very  important  dis- 
tinction between  the  two  is,  however,  possible  and 
ought  to  be  observed.  Emotions  which  have  hecome 
hahltual  hy  frequent  repetition  and  are  ''  backed  up  "  hy 
determined  loill  are  more  properly  called  passions.  And 
this  leads  a  modern  writer  to  say,  "  Repetition  has  a 
different  effect  ui:)on  emotion  and  upon  passion  ;  it 
weakens  the  one  and  feeds  the  other."  In  this  use 
of  the  words,  emotions  are  the  more  violent,  tempo- 
rary, and  sudden ;  they  escape  control  and  rage  of 
themselves,  if  they  become  very  intense.  Passions 
are  more  concealed  and  constant ;  they  are  taken  up 
and  adopted  more  by  the  voluntary  man.  The  one 
is  like  a  storm  of  thunder  and  lightning ;  the  other 
is  the  intense  and  steady  heat  of  tropical  summer. 
Women  are  more  emotional  than  men,  but  men  are 
more  passionate  than  women.  Strong-  emotions  are 
sources  of  weakness ;  but  strong  passions  may  be 
sources  of  strength. 

Nature  of  the  Sentiments — The  forms  of  developed 
feeling-  which  are  called  sentiments  differ  from  the 
emotions  largely  in  not  having  what  the  latter  have. 
They  lack  the  intensity  and  the  strong-  bodily  tinge 
(the  "  somatic  reaction  ")  of  the  emotions.  They  are 
more  ideal  and  spiritual,  we  might  say.  They  are 
"  fuller  of  ideas  ; "  and  some  of  them  are  found  to  be 
complex  forms  of  feeling  that  arise  onlj^  in  the  pres- 
ence  of   "  ideals,"  or   constructions  of  imagination 


e:\[otions,  skxtimexts,  anb  desihes      183 

and  thong-lit  Avliieh  the  mind  holds  np  to  itself  as 
types  or  j)atterus  of  what  is  not,  bnt  ought  to  be. 

Yet  here  again  the  distinction  betAvcen  the  emo- 
tions and  the  sentiments  is  not  fixed  and  immovable. 
Even  the  artistic  and  the  religions  feelings  may  be- 
come so  intense  and  may  so  stir  np  in  characteristic 
ways  the  organs  of  the  body  as  to  become,  more 
properly  called,  emotions  or  passions.  Some  stu- 
dents of  nature  or  of  the  human  mind  follow  their 
pursuits  with  a  high  degree  of  mental  and  bodily 
disturbance,  amounting  to  an  emotional  phase  of 
feeling.  Moreover,  traces  of  the  influence  upon  feel- 
ing itself  from  the  resulting  condition  of  the  bodily 
organs  are  to  be  noticed  in  almost  all  of  the  most  re- 
fined sentiments.  Indeed,  this  fact  accords  with  the 
very  nature  of  feeling.  We  shall  see  how  true  this 
is  when  we  consider,  for  example,  the  sentiment  for 
the  sublime  or  the  sentiment  of  moral  obligation 
which  corresponds  to  the  words,  "I  ought,"  or  "I 
ought  not." 

Classes  of  Sentiments. — These  forms  of  complex 
feeling,  like  all  others,  do  not  admit  of  direct  classi- 
fication. Indirectly,  however,  and  by  considering 
the  conditions  of  their  occurrence,  or  the  intellectual 
jorocesses  which  accompany  them,  or  the  kinds  of 
ol)jects  which  excite  them,  they  may  be  divided  so 
as  to  be  treated  in  a  convenient  way.  Thus  tlnve 
main  classes  of  "sentiments"  may  be  recHjgnizcul, 
namely:  (1)  the  intellectual ;  (2)  the  sosthctical  ;  and 
(3)  the(!thical  and  rfiligious. 

The  Intellectual  Sentiments — All   t]ie   processes  of 


184  PRIMER   OF  PSYCHOLOGY 

perception,  memory,  imagination,  and  thinking-  have 
tlieir  peculiar  forms  of  feeling  connected  with  tliem 
either  as  excitants  or  accompaniments.  These  "  in- 
tellectual sentiments  "  may  themselves,  therefore,  be 
somewhat  roughly  divided  into  two  classes.  They 
are  such  as  either  serve  to  give  impulse  and  guid- 
ance to  the  intellectual  activities  ;  or  else  they  sim- 
ply accompany  them  as  feelings  of  the  intellectual 
activities. 

Among  those  of  the  first  class  is  the  sentiment  of 
intellectual  curiosity,  which,  when  it  is  regarded  as 
a  motive  for  doing  something,  becomes  a  desire  of 
knowledge  "  for  its  own  sake,"  as  men  are  accus- 
tomed to  say.  This  sentiment  originates  in  that 
almost  merely  animal  restlessness  to  which  reference 
has  already  been  made  (p.  178).  As  imagination  op- 
erates upon  the  field  of  knowledge,  it  forms  an  at- 
tractive picture  of  the  nobility  and  the  advantages 
of  merely  knowing ;  and  this  picture  may  be  personi- 
fied, and  even  worshipped,  as  a  kind  of  goddess 
called  "  Science,"  with  a  morbid  and  sentimental  de- 
votion. 

In  considering  the  intellectual  sentiments  of  the 
second  class,  it  should  be  borne  in  mind  that  we 
actually  feel  the  movements  of  our  own  intellect- 
ual life,  in  a  variety  of  forms  of  feeling  which  cor- 
responds to  the  actual  variety  of  these  movements. 
For  example,  the  consciousness  of  similarity,  with 
its  pleased  sentiment  of  recognition,  differs  from 
the  feeling  of  the  slight  or  intense  shock  of  surprise 
which  goes  with  the   consciousness   of  difference. 


EMOTIONS,  SENTIMENTS,  AND   DESIRES        185 

One  feels  amazed  as  well  as  g-vatified  when  one 
apprehends  important  new  truths.  In  trying-  to 
remember,  one  feels  puzzled ;  not  quite  satisfied  un- 
less the  remembrance  seems  absolutely  correct,  and 
relieved  and  g-ratified  when  the  act  of  memory  seems 
complete.  Indeed,  this  latter  form  of  feeling  is  often 
more  of  a  guide  to  memory  than  is  judgment  or 
reasoning.  Above  all  in  importance  is  the  senti- 
ment of  fitness,  or  approbation,  w^ith  which  "the 
truth"  is  greeted  by  a  sound  and  honest  mind. 
And,  indeed,  it  is  i)rohahly  feeling,  far  mo7-e  and  far 
oftener,  than  any  strict  logical  conclusiveness  in  our 
reasonings  that  settles  for  the  time  being  what  the  truth 
shall  he  held  to  be. 

It  could  even  be  shown  that,  in  all  probal)ility, 
every  important  relation  recognized  by  the  intellect 
and  put  into  language  has  its  appropriate  senti- 
ment. Thus  there  is  a  feeling',  as  well  as  a  thought, 
that  goes  with  all  the  prepositions,  such  as  "  upon," 
"  over,"  "  into,"  etc.  Esiiecially  do  many  of  the  con- 
junctions serve  to  mark  peculiar  changes  in  feeling  as 
well  as  transitions  in  thought.  We  all  agree  with  the 
character  in  Shakespeare,  who  did  not  like  "  But  yet." 

The  jEsthetical  Sentiments. — AVhen  one  is  looking- 
at  certain  objects  in  nature  or  in  an  art  gallery, 
when  one  is  hearing-  certain  successions  of  sounds 
at  a  good  concert,  when  one  is  reading  poetry,  or 
contemi)lating  in  memory  or  imagination  a  great  and 
heroic  deed,  one  cx[)ori(incos  very  ixx'uliar  feisliiigs 
of  admiration  and  ])l<!ased  approval.  Sucli  feelings 
are   called  *' lesthetical   sentiments,"  or   the  "foul- 


186  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

ing-"  of  the  beantifnl.  The  psycliolog'y  of  these 
forms  of  feeling-  is  an  exceedingly  interesting  subject 
of  study ;  but  it  has  thus  far  been  pursued  with 
only  a  partial  success.  Several  points  may,  how- 
ever, be  considered  as  established. 

The  gesthetical  sentiments  are  forms  of  agreeable 
or  disagreeable  feeling,  as  indeed  almost  (if  not 
quite)  all  of  our  sentiments  are.  But  they  do  not  ap- 
pear to  be  merely  agreeable  and  disagreeable  feelings. 
That  is,  the  satisfaction  is  not  simply  sensuous  or 
simply  intellectual,  as  is  the  satisfaction  which  is 
taken  in  a  well-cooked  dish  or  in  a  sound  argument. 
But  ffisthetical  sentiment  may  mix  in  with  sensuous 
feelings ;  as  in  the  case  of  the  traveller  who,  on 
drinking  cool,  fresh  milk  in  the  Pyrenees,  "  experi- 
enced a  series  of  feelings  which  the  word  agreeable  is 
insufficient  to  designate."  Or,  again,  as  in  the  case 
of  one  of  the  author's  pupils,  who  testified  that  the 
study  of  Kant's  "  Critique  of  Pure  Reason  "  gave  him 
the  hig'hest  sesthetical  enjoyment.  There  is  no  way, 
of  course,  to  prove  such  statements  as  these  but  to 
appeal  to  the  consciousness  of  those  who  make  them. 
And  it  will  be  forever  useless  for  small-minded  psy- 
chologists, with  their  petty  theories  of  evolution,  to 
try  to  make  the  world's  artists  and  admirers  of  art 
think  that  they  do  not  know  themselves  well  enough 
to  understand  the  difference  between  genuine  ces- 
thi'tical  sentiments  and  merely  agreeable  feelings. 

Kinds  of  the  Beautiful — There  are  various  ways  of 
dividing  uji  the  kinds  of  beautiful  objects,  and  of 
classifying  the  arts.     But  the  division  in  which  jjsy- 


EMOTIONS,  SENTIMENTS,  AND   DESIRES        187 

cliology  is  interested  is  based  upon  tlio  differences 
in  onr  conscious  states  when  we  are  contemplatinsr 
tlie  dilierent  sorts  of  objects  wliicli  we  call  "  beauti- 
ful." Here,  of  course,  the  word  beautiful  is  used  with 
a  very  g-eueral  sig-niticance.  For  example,  one  form 
of  the  beautiful  is  the  suhlhne  or  the  grand.  A  cer- 
tain larg-eness  or  swelling  of  feeling-  is  characteristic 
of  our  mental  attitude  before  the  sublime.  This  char- 
acteristic extends  even  to  the  ishysiological  basis  of 
the  feeling-.  One  tends  to  lift  up  the  head,  to  stretch 
one's  self  in  stature,  to  expand  the  lungs  by  deep 
breathing,  when  one  is  contemplating  the  sublime. 
The  intellectual  activities  are  loose  and  expansive, 
rather  than  marked  by  fixed  attention  and  careful 
mastery  of  minute  details.  Imagination,  taking  its 
point  of  starting  from  the  object,  ranges  abroad, 
magnifies  known  excellences,  and  even  reaches 
out  toward  the  incomprehensible  and  the  infinite. 
Feelings  of  awe  and  reverence,  that  seem  to  have  a 
kind  of  moral  and  religious  quality,  are  aroused. 
Somewhat  thus  does  the  sensitive  soul  feel  the  sub- 
limity of  a  storm  at  sea  (when  all  personal  fear  and 
discomfort  are  absent),  or  of  the  clouds  and  light- 
ning, or  the  snowy  peaks,  seen  from  a  mountain's 
top,  or  of  some  heroic  charge  in  a  great  battle,  or 
an  act  of  religious  self-sacrifice. 

But  if  it  be  the  merely  preJtn  which  one  is  enjoy- 
ino-  how  different  is  the  form  of  one's  scsthetical 
consciousness  ?  Hero  there  is  little  or  no  expansive 
physiological  fiioling  ;  attention  is  concentrated  on 
the  harm(n)y  or  phrasing  contrast  of  details  ;  iniagi- 


188  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

nation  seeks  little  or  nothing-  beyond  ;  and  tliere  is 
almost  no  excitement  of  will  either  to  worship  or  to 
achieve.  So  that  the  merely  and  excessively  pretty 
often  comes  very  near  to  exciting  feelings  of  half- 
contempt.  The  graceful,  again,  is  appreciated  only 
as  the  thonghts  and  feelings  which  accompany  easy 
and  pleasant  movement,  whether  of  body  or  of  mind, 
are  stirred  and  gratified.  But  further  remarks  on  this 
interesting  department  of  psychology  are  not  fitted 
to  so  elementary  a  work  as  this. 

The  Ethical  Sentiments.— As  has  just  been  seen, 
some  of  the  ?esthetical  sentiments  are  very  closely 
akin  to  moral  and  religious  sentiments.  Especially  is 
this  true  of  the  sentiments  of  awe  and  reverence, 
and  of  the  mysterious  and  infinite,  which  those  ob- 
jects excite  that  are  called  sublime.  The  various 
emotions — such  as  anger,  fear,  grief,  joy,  and  sym- 
pathy— may  all  become  moral  or  immoral,  according 
to  the  degree  and  manner  of  their  prevalence  in  the 
life  of  the  mind.  Thus  natural  anger  may  be  culti- 
vated by  experience  and  rational  reflection  so  as  to 
take  the  form  of  a  holy  sentiment  against  injustice, 
such  as  is  rightly  attributed  even  to  God  himself. 
Fear  may  be  developed  into  the  sentiment  of  rever- 
ence for  what  is  true,  beautiful,  and  good.  To  be 
false  or  to  speak  lies  becomes  for  some  men  the 
most  to  be  dreaded  of  all  things  conceivable.  "  The 
fear  of  God,"  we  are  told,  "  is  the  beginning  of  wis- 
dom." Crude  animal  sympathy  is  also  developed  in- 
to the  refined  sentiment  of  unselfish  love  for  others, 
love  of  friends,  love  of  country,  love  of  humanity. 


EMOTIONS,  SENTIMENTS,  AND   DESIRES        189 

There  are,  however,  certain  sentimeuts,  or  forms 
of  feeling-,  developed,  in  the  course  of  the  natural 
life  of  the  mind,  that  are  distinctly  ethical.  It  is  the 
possession  of  these  which  seems  to  make  man  a 
moral  being-,  on  the  side  of  feeling,  as  none  of  the 
lower  animals  are.  Among  these  we  note,  first,  the 
sentiment  of  moral  ohligation,  ox  the  feeling-  which  is 
expressed  by  the  words  "  I  ought,"  "  he  oug-ht,"  etc. 
Begging  pardon  for  the  expression,  we  will  call  this 
the  "  feeling  of  oughtuess."  This  is  a  perfectly- 
unique  sentiment,  is  not  like  any  other,  and  cannot 
be  understood  as  a  development  or  modification  of 
any  other.  Its  unique  character  is  undoubted,  how- 
ever the  sentiment  may  seem  to  have  arisen.  So 
far  as  is  known,  the  lower  animals  have  no  corre- 
sponding form  of  consciousness.  Second  :  the  senti- 
ment  of  moral  approbation  or  disapprobation  seems 
also  to  be  a  distinctive  and  unique  ethical  sentiment. 
The  words  "  approve  "  and  "  disapprove  "  are  indeed 
used  witli  a  variety  of  meanings.  The  animals — as, 
for  example,  a  dog  that  has  failed  to  retrieve  or 
that  has  been  caught  stealing  a  bit  of  meat — show 
certain  signs  of  shame  for  what  they  have  done  or 
have  failed  to  do.  A  defeated  foot-ball  team,  even 
when  it  has  "  done  its  duty,"  may  have  a  similar  feel- 
ing of  shame.  But  that  distinctively  moral  feeling 
which  arises  when,  in  spite,  it  may  be,  of  threatened 
pain  and  loss,  one  has  done  what  sound  judgment 
decides  ought  to  bo  done,  is  ap[)an'iit!y  llic  posses- 
sion of  mail  nlone. 

Nature  of  Conscience. — Fow  words  arc   used  with 


190  PKIMEK   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

more  indefiniteness  and  variety  of  meaning  than  the 
word  "  conscience."  In  none  of  its  meanings,  how- 
ever, can  the  claim  to  regard  conscience  as  a  special 
faculty  of  the  mind  be  made  good.  If  the  word  be 
employed  to  comprehend  the  judgments  of  men  as 
to  what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong  in  character  or 
conduct,  then  conscience  is  certainly  no  special  fac- 
ulty. Judgment  about  matters  of  right  and  wrong, 
as  judgment,  is  precisely  similar  to  judgment  about 
all  other  matters.  In  all  matters  men  take  some  of 
their  judgments  from  others,  quite  unthinkingly; 
other  judgments  they  make  up  after  more  or  less  re- 
flection ;  still  others  they  grasp  at,  as  it  were,  in  a 
way  to  hit  right,  perhaps,  but  so  that  they  cannot 
justifj'-  to  reason  the  conclusion,  either  before  their 
own  intellect  or  the  intellect  of  other  men.  In  all 
matters  judgment  springs  very  largely  out  of  blind 
feeling. 

It  has  already  been  seen  that  most  of  the  so-called 
ethical  sentiments  (conscience  as  feeling)  are  not 
originally  ethical,  in  the  stricter  sense  of  the  word. 
But  two  forms  at  least— the  feeling  of  moral  obliga- 
tion  and  the  feeling  of  moral  approbation — are  dis- 
tinctive and  unique.  How  these  feelings  come  to  be 
attached  to  certain  particular  forms  of  conduct,  how 
it  is  that  3^ou  feel  that  "  you  ought,"  and  I  feel  that 
"  I  ought,"  in  such  very  different  ways,  is  a  matter 
of  education,  personal  history,  etc.  But  both  you 
and  I  and  all  men  agree  in  having  certain  distinc- 
tively human  and  moral  sentiments  aroused;  we 
agree  also  in  having  these  sentiments  so  largely  at- 


EMOTIO:?^S,  SENTIMENTS,  AND   DESIRES        191 

taclied  to  the  same  courses  of  conduct  or  to  the  same 
deeds,  because  there  is  so  much  iu  common,  not  only 
in  human  nature,  but  also  in  the  circumstances  and 
teachings  under  which  it  was  developed. 

Hence  it  comes  about  that  from  the  point  of  view 
of  individual  consciousness,  the  "  ougld-feeliwj  "  and  the 
feeling  of  moral  approbation  are  generally  attached, 
without  any  conscious  process  of  reasoning,  to  a  so- 
called  moral  judgment ;  hut  in  making  up  the  judg- 
ment any  amount  of  reasoning  is  admissihle,  for  it  is  a 
matte?'  of  evidence  more  or  less. 

Nature  of  the  Desires. — Tliose  states  of  conscious- 
ness which  we  have  called  "  the  desires  "  lie  nearer 
to  the  will  than  do  the  emotions  and  sentiments,  con- 
sidered merely  as  such.  Indeed,  in  order  to  under- 
stand the  origin  and  nature  of  the  desires,  it  is 
necessary  to  take  our  point  of  starting  chiefly  from 
"the  impulses."  Here  we  may  begin  by  noticing 
that  the  various  forms  of  natural  emotion  have  tlieir 
characteristic  impulses  toward  certain  forms  of 
movement.  For  example,  the  impulse  of  the  angry 
child  is  to  strike  or  kick  ;  or  to  bite  some  object ;  or, 
in  case  fear  restrains  from  tliis,  to  boat  his  heels  or 
liis  head  on  tlic  floor.  The  impulse  of  love  is  to 
fondle,  to  defend,  to  eml)race.  Feelings  like  those 
oi  curiosity,  expectation,  and  doubt  also  act  as  im- 
pulses. The  imi)ulso  of  the;  curious  iniiid  is  to 
look  "  pryingly,"  and  that  of  tlie  doubtful  mind  to 
look  "  suspiciously."  But  ])lainly  each  of  tliese  im- 
])ulses  involv(\s  acts  of  Avill,  ihc  doing  of  something 
that  has  its  end  iu  the  gratilicati(ui  or  relief  of  feeling. 


192  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

Genuine  desires,  however,  as  distinguished  from 
impulses,  require  a  considerable  development  of  in- 
tellect, an  acquirement  of  experience  as  to  the  re- 
sults of  what  is  done  and  of  the  ways  to  reach  the 
ends  toward  which  feeling-  impels  the  mind.  Some 
end  of  which  we  have  a  mental  picture,  and  about  the 
effects  of  which  upon  our  well-being"  we  have  knowl- 
edge acquired  in  the  past,  must  be  the  object  of  de- 
sire. Desires,  therefore,  involve  the  develoiDment  and 
use  of  all  the  faculties  of  mind  in  a  rather  compli- 
cated way.  It  is  the  stress  of  feeling  ready  to  heak 
over — as  it  were  —  into  a  definite  act  of  will  toward 
some  particular  end,  which  is  the  ^^ecidiar  character- 
istic of  the  desires. 

Kinds  of  Desires — It  is  as  difficult  to  classify  the 
desires  satisfactorily  as  it  is  to  classify  the  senti- 
ments. For  purposes  of  convenience,  however,  four 
classes  of  desires  may  be  distinguished :  (1)  Sen- 
suous, or  those  which  arise  out  of  bodily  cravings, 
and  find  their  satisfaction  in  the  possession  and  use 
of  some  object ;  (2)  Intellectual  desires,  or  those 
cravings  that  arise  from  the  mental  faculties  and 
find  their  satisfaction  in  mental  exercises,  or  states, 
regarded  as  objects  or  ends  to  be  gained  ;  (3)  Sen- 
timental desires,  or  those  which  arise  in  the  con- 
templation of  some  form  of  the  beautiful  or  of  the 
morally  good  in  conduct  and  character ;  and  (4) 
Pathological,  where  things  which  seem  repulsive, 
and  the  possession  and  use  of  which  are  painful  to 
the  person  himself,  are  still  desired  in  a  sort  of  dis- 
eased and  irrational  way- 


EMOTIONS,  SENTIMENTS,  AND   DESIRES        193 

It  lias  already  been  noticed  that  desires,  as  com- 
pared witli  all  other  states  of  consciousness,  stand 
closest  to  the  act  of  will.  It  is  usually  only  a  step 
from  "I  want  very  badly"  to  "I  will  have."  "I 
want ; "  "I  will  to  have  ;  "  "I  strive  to  get  ;  "—these 
follow  each  other  in  this  order,  unless  "self-con- 
trol "  intervenes.  It  is  to  the  nature  of  willing-,  then, 
as  to  the  highest  and  most  complex  activity  of  mind, 
that  attention  is  now  directed. 
13 


CHAPTER   XII 

WILL  AND  CHAEACTEIl 

It  lias  been  seen  (p.  14f.)  that  all  states  of  con- 
sciousness may  be  regarded  as  having-  an  active  side 
or  aspect ;  that  one  must  consider  one's  self  as 
always  doing  something,  as  well  as  thinking  about 
somewhat  and  feeling  somehow.  This  active  aspect 
of  the  self,  this  always  doing  something  which  we 
detect  in  all  our  conscious  states,  needs  a  name  for 
it  as  a  most  general  form  of  mental  life.  To  "  will," 
in  any  proper  sense  of  the  word,  involves  all  the  facul- 
ties of  intellect  and  of  feeling ;  willing  and  choos- 
ing are,  therefore,  terms  too  complex  to  signify  the 
most  simple  and  elementary  form  of  active  experi- 
ence. The  word  conation  has  been  suggested  for  this 
purpose,  and  has  been  employed  by  several  writers 
on  psychology. 

Nature  of  Conation. — Inquiry  into  the  characteris- 
tics of  this  fundamental  aspect  of  all  mental  life, 
for  which  the  word  "conation"  has  just  been  se- 
lected, reveals  little  or  nothing  to  be  said.  We  can- 
not define  what  it  is  to  be  active  or  to  do  ;  for  there 
are  no  simpler  terms  than  these  same  words — "  to 
be  active  "  and  "  to  do  " — by  which  to  describe  such 
experience.  This  is  not  especially  strange ;  for  it  is 
equally  true  that  one  cannot  define  what  it  is  to 


WILL   AT^D   CHARACTER  195 

have  a  sensation,  or  what  it  is  to  feel,  whether  a 
lileasure  or  a  pain,  etc.  It  is  possible,  however,  to 
describe  in  some  sort  the  different  kinds  of  sensa- 
tion and  the  different  kinds  of  feeling.  But  there 
seems  to  be  only  one  kind  of  conation.  A  great  va- 
riety of  effects  in  the  way  of  bodily  movements  and  of 
different  directions  given  to  the  mental  train  follows, 
indeed,  from  the  different  acts  of  conation.  But  the 
character  of  all  conation,  as  such,  seems  to  be  alike. 

Two  classes  of  effects,  however,  are  uniformly  con- 
nected with  conation  considered  as  the  very  simplest 
and  most  elementary  mental  activity.  These  are  (1) 
movements  of  the  bodily  members,  so  far  as  our 
mental  doing  affects  them  directly ;  and  (2)  the  de- 
termination of  the  direction  and  amount  of  attention 
— the  fixing  and  distribution  of  mental  energy  in 
the  so-called  field  of  consciousness  (compare  p.  23f.). 
Thus  it  is  that  when  we  conceive  of  ourselves  as 
"  doing  something,"  it  is  always  either  in  the  way 
of  moving  some  of  the  bodily  members  so  as  to  ac- 
complish a  certain  end,  or  else  in  the  way  of  volun- 
tarily controlling  the  ideas,  thoughts,  feelings,  and 
other  forms  of  mental  life.  These  two  classes  of 
effects  are  connected  with  the  phenomena  of  el  loos- 
ing, planning,  and  all  the  higher  forms  of  the  mani- 
festation of  will. 

In  general  it  may  be  said  that  all  mental  life  mani- 
fests itself  to  the  suhjeet  (f  that  life  as  beinij,  in  one  (f  its 
fiiiujniiuiital  aspfcts^  i/.s  oirn  s/)o/ita.riron.s  artiriti/. 

Conditions  of  Conation.  -Tlie  physiological  condi- 
tions of  that  self-doing,  or  active  aspect  of  imntal 


196  PRIMER   OF   PSYCnOLOGY 

life,  which  has  been  called  conation,  are  very  ob- 
scure. So  far  as  they  can  be  discovered,  they  be- 
long- to  what  has  been  called  the  "  automatism  "  of 
the  central  nervous  system.  Every  minute  animal, 
like  an  amoeba,  for  example,  exhibits  this  peculiar 
power ;  some  of  the  changes  of  form  or  position 
which  it  goes  through  seem  to  originate  from  within 
rather  than  from  any  kind  of  external  stimulation 
which  can  be  detected.  Thus,  if  one  watches  an 
amoeba  under  the  microscope,  one  may  sometimes 
see  it  pushing  out  its  border  here  and  drawing  it  in 
there,  for  reasons  that  seem  to  have  nothing  to  do 
with  the  action  upon  its  surfaces  of  the  fluid  in 
which  it  is  placed. 

As  the  complexity  of  the  animal  structure  in- 
creases, the  central  organs  of  the  nervous  system 
take  on  themselves,  to  the  highest  degree,  this 
power  of  "  automatic  "  (or  seemingly  self-originat- 
ing) action.  In  man's  case  it  is  the  brain,  and  espe- 
cially the  higher  regions  of  the  brain,  that  rule  over 
the  lower  organs,  in  part  by  the  possession  of  this 
power.  If  we  sever  the  spinal  cord  of  a  frog  from  its 
brain,  then  the  cord  alone  will  move  the  limbs  in  vari- 
ous purposeful  ways  under  the  action  of  the  electri- 
cal current.  If  some  of  the  lower  parts  of  the  brain 
are  also  left  attached  to  the  cord,  then  this  piece  of 
nervous  mechanism  will  jump  ;  it  will  also  croak, 
when  stroked,  with  the  regularity  of  a  music-box. 
But  the  full-brained  frog  will  only  leap  or  croak,  if 
it  wills  ;  it  cannot  be  depended  upon  for  the  same 
kind  of  regularity  as  the  brainless  frog. 


WILL   AND   CHARACTER  197 

Kinds  of  Movement. — lu  understanding-  the  origin 
of  the  various  movements  of  the  body  and  its  mem- 
bers, one  principle  is  of  chief  importance.  Every 
Idnd  of  excitement  in  the  brain — ivhether  connected  with 
sensations,  emotions,  or  ideas — tetids  to  "  overfloio"  the 
centres  and  areas  in  ivhich  it  originates,  and  to  flow  down 
the  nerve-tracts  to  the  tnuscles  and  other  connected  or- 
gans ;  and  thus  to  set  in  movenieoit  the  differe?it  connected 
parts  of  the  external  motor  a2yparatus. 

Under  this  one  g-eneral  principle  a  variety  of  kinds 
of  movement  arise,  which,  so  far  as  they  orig-inate 
in  conscious  states,  may  be  divided  as  follows :  (1) 
Random  movements,  such  as  new-born  infants  make, 
and  which  seem  to  originate  chiefly  in  "  conation" 
as  a  blind  action  of  will,  without  any  conscious  end 
to  be  reached.  In  this  waj''  infants  are  constantly 
striking-  and  kicking-,  Avith  a  perfect  indifference  as 
to  what — even  their  own  sensitive  parts — they  hit  in 
their  blind  efforts.  (2)  Sensory-motor  movements  are 
those  which  arise  chiefly  in  the  excitement  of  some 
form  of  sensation.  Thus  every  smell  naturally  stirs 
us  up  to  sniff  in  the  air,  every  taste  provokes  the 
tongue  to  motion  ;  and  a  moving  object  or  bright 
lig-lit,  in  any  direction,  causes  an  almost  irresistil)lo 
tendency  to  turn  the  head.  (3)  uEdhdico -motor  is  a 
term  that  might  l)e  used  for  those  movements  which 
orig-inate  chiefly  in  the  feeliug-s  as  having-  a  tone  of 
pleasure  or  of  pain.  But  (4)  various  inqxilsire  and 
insii/icfioe  movements  arise  which  involve  a  low 
amount,  at  least,  of  feeling  and  of  tli(^  idea  of  sumo 
end  to  be  reached,  but  which  are  not  of  a  strictly  vol- 


198  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

untary  or  tlioug-litful  character.  Where  these  be- 
long* to  the  human  species,  and  are  developed  upon 
a  basis  of  inherited  characteristics,  and  tend  to  pre- 
serve the  life  and  the  interests  of  the  species,  they 
may  be  called  "  instinctive." 

(5)  y<:/eo-mo^ormovements  are  those  that  are  excited 
by  ideas  arising  in  consciousness.  In  all  our  waking" 
states,  if  the  idea  of  doing  anything  in  particular  is 
suggested  to  the  mind,  unless  some  check  is  fur- 
nished, the  tendency  at  once  arises  to  carry  the  idea 
out  in  the  appropriate  form  of  movement.  Thus  in 
various  sports,  or  other  complicated  forms  of  mus- 
cular activity,  in  connection  with  trained  habits  of 
bodily  movement,  every  idea  is  quickly  followed  by 
some  corresponding  deed.  Yery  interesting  also  are 
(6)  the  imitative  movements  which  occur  so  early  in 
the  life  of  the  infant.  One  observer,  for  exami^le, 
tells  how  a  child  of  only  fifteen  weeks  old  was  seen 
trying  to  "  purse  up  "  his  lips  when  this  was  done  by 
some  one  else  "  close  in  front  of  him."  And,  finally, 
there  are  (7)  vohmtary  movements,  where  we,  with  a 
fuller  consciousness  of  what  we  wish  to  do,  will  that 
the  movements  shall  occur  (sometimes  after  no  lit- 
tle deliberation,  and  sometimes  in  spite  of  certain 
strong  considerations  to  the  contrary,  and  with  much 
feeling  of  effort). 

It  should  be  borne  in  mind,  however,  that  all  these 
various  kinds  of  movement  are,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
more  or  less  mingled  together.  Perfectly  "  pure  " 
cases  of  either  kind  occur  only,  for  the  most  part,  in 
early  life.     For  example,  the  same  imitative  move- 


"WILL    AND    CHARACTER  199 

nieuts  wliicli  are  seen  iu  infants,  Avhen  performed  by 
adults,  are  apt  also  to  liave  behind  them  much  of 
sympathetic  ideas  and  feelings  to  account,  in  part, 
for  their  origin. 

Nature  of  Volition. — Those  so-called  "  blind  acts  of 
"will,"  or  "  mere  conations,"  "v\'hich  account  for  many 
of  the  moYements  already  described,  become  more 
and  more  displaced  by  acts  of  "v\'ill  that  sho'o'"  intelli- 
g-ence  and  foresig-ht.  Such  an  act  of  will  may  then 
be  called  a  "  volition."  A  volition  thus  implies  a 
certain  development  of  will,  and  not  of  will  alone  (as 
though  this  were  possible),  but  of  all  the  connected 
conscious  powers  of  the  mind.  It  may  be  defined  as 
a  definite  conation  (or  conscious  doing)  directed 
toward  realizing  some  end  that  is  pictured  before 
the  mind,  preceded  or  accompanied  by  a  condition 
of  desire,  and  usually  accompanied  or  followed  by  a 
feeling  of  effort. 

All  the  different  elements  "which  enter  into  a  voli- 
tion may  vary  somewhat  indefinitely.  For  example, 
the  mental  picture  of  the  end  to  be  willed  may  be 
more  or  less  definite  ;  and  it  may  itself  be  held  by 
an  act  of  will  for  a  longer  or  shorter  time  before  the 
mind.  More  or  less  clearly,  however,  even/  volition  is 
an  act  ofioill  vjhich  knows  what  it  wants.  The  period 
and  the  stress  of  desire  may  also  vary  greatly  in  dif- 
ferent volitions.  Sometimes  one  "wills  acertain  tiling 
very  coolly,  and  sometimes  as  springing  from  viu-y 
■warm  wishes  or  intense  wants. 

Nature  of  Deliberation — One   \(i\   |>(iuli;ir  and  in 
terestin;-'-  fcituio  vnrics  grtiatlv  with  dill'crcnt  acts  (jf 


200  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

will.     This  is  the  amount  of  what  is  called  "  delib- 
eration."    But   deliberation   is  itself  a  mixture   of 
intellect  and  will.     For  when  one  deliberates,  one 
thinks  over  the  consequences  which  past  experience 
teaches  are  likely  to  follow  from  one's  action  ;  and 
meantime  one  holds  the  decision  in  suspense,  as  it 
were.     This  very   "holding  in  suspense"  is  itself, 
however,  a  volition ;  or,  rather,  it  is  often  a  series  of 
volitions  that  all  have  what  is  sometimes  called  an 
"  inhibitory  "  character.    Different  persons  habitually 
differ  to  no  small  degree  in  respect  to  the  amount  of 
deliberation  which  precedes  their  volitions.     Hence 
we  hear  of  reckless  will,  hasty  will,  excited  will,  cool 
will,  reluctant  will,  etc.     Hence,  also,  ths  lolll  to  delib- 
erate is  itself  a  very  important  and  influential  form 
of  will.     Strong  and  reasonable  will  depends  large- 
ly upon  the  character  and  issue  of  the  deliberation 
which  precedes  the  decision.     Weakness  of  will  may 
consist  in  "  getting  stuck  fast "  in  one's  feelings  and 
emotions,  and  so  deliberating  indefinitely  without 
any  power  to  decide  "  for  one's  self."     In  this  con- 
nection, too,  it  may  be  noted  that  the  loill  determines 
the  ideas,  feelings,  and  desires  just  as  truly  as  tliey  in- 
fluence the  loill. 

Resolution  of  Deliberation. — The  period  of  so-called 
deliberation  must,  of  course,  at  some  time  come  to 
an  end.  Its  issue  may  be  reached  in  any  one  of 
several  different  ways.  Sometimes  the  volition 
seems  to  be  the  mere  result  of  exhaustion ;  we  feel 
that  we  cannot  keep  on  deliberating  any  longer — 
we  must  do  something,  and  the  volition  takes  the 


WILL    AND    CHARACTER  201 

Hue  of  least  resistance  at  that  very  moment.  We 
will  to  "let  go,"  to  "yield  up,"  to  "cease  to  try" 
finding  out  by  deliberation  what  it  is  best  to  will. 
Sometimes,  on  the  contrary,  all  our  powers  seem 
suddenly  to  rally  and  to  break  over  the  barriers ; 
then  all  at  once  we  find,  to  our  relief  and  joy,  that 
we  have  already  willed  what  only  a  short  time  ago 
seemed  so  impossible  to  us. 

Faculties  Employed  in  Will. — Much  confusion  has 
been  introduced  into  psychology  b}''  speaking  as 
though  "  the  will "  were  a  sort  of  separate  faculty 
that  could  be  considered  apart  from  the  rest  of  men- 
tal life.  On  the  contrary,  some  have  insisted  that 
it  should  be  regarded  as  merely  the  expression  of 
the  stronger  sensations,  feelings,  or  desires.  These 
states  have  been  regarded  as  "  motives  "  Avliich,  by  a 
sort  of  strength  inherent  in  them  and  independent 
of  our  control,  determine  the  will.  Still  other  writers 
have  seemed  to  hold  that  the  will  can  be  raised  to 
a  sort  of  god-like  independence  of  all  the  other  fac- 
ulties, and  so  can  bend  them  to  itself.  The  fact  is 
tliat  what  is  ordinarily  called  "  willing  "  is  an  exceed- 
ingly complex  affair,  and  involves  no  little  develop- 
ment of  all  the  faculties  of  the  mind.  In  the  higher 
sense  of  the  words  "to  will,"  no  one  can  will  with- 
out employing  intellect,  memory,  imagination,  and 
thought — without  setting  before  the  conscious  Self 
the  particular  end  to  bo  willed,  or  -without  the  feeling 
being  aroiised  to  some  extent  in  \'ww  ol"  this  i)icturod 
end.  But  it  does  not  follow  Troin  lliis  that  what  wo 
indicate  by  "  I  will  "  is  not  a  unique  sort  of  thing  in 


2()!2  PRIMER   OF    PSYCHOLOGY 

the  conscious  life.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  iDhiinly  a 
different  kind  of  phenomenon  in  consciousness  from 
what  is  indicated  by  any  terms  which  apply  to  the 
merely  intellectual  and  emotional  life.  W/iat  ice  ivill 
is  not  only  dependent  upon  what  ive  think  and  what  uie 
wish,  but  also  what  vae  think  on  ivhat  we  wish  and  loilL 
And  that  willing-  determines  largely  our  feeling-s  and 
desires  has  already  been  said. 

Nature  of  Choice. — The  hig-hest  expression  of  will 
is  reached  when  a  choice  is  made.  In  order  that  all 
the  mental  factors  which  enter  into  a  "  mature  "  choice 
may  be  understood,  it  is  necessary  to  separate  in 
thought  what  is  often  very  closely  "huddled  to- 
gether "  in  the  actual  life  of  the  mind.  In  such  a 
choice  the  following  factors  may  be  recognized : 
There  is  (1)  the  mental  representation,  or  picturing 
before  the  mind,  of  two  or  more  ends  which  are  re- 
garded as  dependent  upon  our  action,  and,  generally, 
also  of  the  means  which  will  be  necessary  to  realize 
these  ends.  (2)  This  is  accompanied  by  some  excite- 
ment of  the  feelings — the  emotions,  sentiments,  and 
desires — as  the  "  good  "  of  these  ends  is  considered 
by  the  mind.  And  since  such  processes  of  mental 
representation  and  feeling  cannot  all  occur  together 
in  the  conscious  life,  there  is  (3)  deliberation,  which 
involves  some  estimating  of  the  relative  value  of  the 
two  or  more  ends,  of  the  risks  and  pains  or  pleasures 
connected  with  their  attainment ;  and  perhaps  a  sort 
of  conflict  of  desires.  Then,  somehow,  there  follows 
(4)  decision,  or  that  adoption  of  an  end  as  mine  which 
corresponds  to  the  words  "/will."     And,  finally,  in 


WILL   AND   CHARACTER  203 

case  sometliing'  is  to  be  done  about  it,  there  is  the 
"  letting-  g'O,"  or  the  "  g-ripping-  on  "  of  attention,  to 
move  the  muscular  apparatus  and  to  conduct  the 
train  of  thoughts  and  ideas.  It  is,  however,  in  No.  4, 
in  decimm,  or  the  "  cutting  short "  of  th£  process  of  delib- 
eration by  adoption  of  one  of  the  several  ends  to  be 
"  mine"  that  the  luill  ex]}7'esses  itself  as  the  faculty  dis- 
fincfive  in  all  maMng  of  choices. 

Formation  of  Plans  and  Purposes. — Properly  speak- 
ing, every  volition,  and  especially  every  choice,  is 
planful  or  purposeful.  Suppose,  for  example,  that 
the  pitcher  of  a  base-ball  wills  to  pitch  it  with  the 
only  one  curve  which  he  can  make  effective  ;  or  he 
chooses,  of  two  or  three  of  his  curves,  the  particular 
one  which  he  thinks  liard(3st  for  that  particular  bat- 
ter to  hit.  Ho  accordingly  uses  his  eyes  and  his 
muscles  in  a  planful  way — in  a  manner  that  is  to 
carry  out  the  purpose  he  has  formed.  His  choice  is 
the  adoption  of  a  plan.  The  same  thing  is  true 
when  I  take  a  poach  instead  of  an  apple,  to  eat,  from 
a  plate  of  fruit ;  or  when  I  make  up  my  mind  to  walk 
down  street  rather  than  to  run  for  the  street-car  to 
the  next  corner. 

Indeed,  all  our  waking  life  we  are  constantly 
forming-  and  executing-— generally  with  a  fair  meas- 
ure of  success — a  series  of  plans.  The  only  thing- 
for  us,  if  we  do  not  do  this,  is  to  "go  it  wild,"  and 
get  no  benefit  from  past  experience.  Indeed,  it 
might  with  mucli  truth  b(!  said  tliat  one  cannot 
avoid  acting  in  a  planful  way;  for  many  <»|'  Jli(>so 
l)lans  are   bedded   into  the  nervous  aixl    muscular 


204  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

org-aiiism  and  into  all  tlie  habits  of  thought  and 
feeling ;  so  that  it  would  be  far  more  trouble  to 
avoid  following  them  than  to  adopt  them. 

Execution  of  Plans  and  Purposes. — Different  plans 
differ  in  the  relations  which  they  sustain  to  the  will, 
with  respect  to  their  being  "  carried  out,"  almost 
immeasurably.  Some  of  them,  as  has  just  been  in- 
dicated, are  no  sooner  framed  than  they  jDroceed  to 
carry  themselves  out  in  an  almost  purely  impul- 
sive way ;  or  by  laying  hold,  as  it  were,  on  past  hab- 
its of  conduct.  Thus  it  would  be  with  a  savage's 
plan  to  hit  a  particular  one  of  the  enemy  with 
his  poisoned  arrow.  Others  have  to  be  "backed 
up  "  through  days  and  even  years  of  waiting  and 
working  by  continually  repeated  action  of  the 
will.  Such  are  the  plans,  more  or  less  intelligently 
adopted,  which  steady  life  and  give  it  some  sort  of 
unity  and  dignity  ;  without  which,  indeed,  life  is 
carried  and  driven  in  contradictory  directions  by  im- 
pulse and  caprice,  and  so  is  made  more  animal  than 
really  human.  Without  such  plans,  no  matter  how 
choice  and  refined  some  of  the  sentiments  may  seem 
to  be,  there  is  no  best  living  possible,  and  no  really 
worthy  character  to  be  attained.  Here  again  we  see 
how  7v ill  enters  into  all  our  experience;  instead  of 
being  merely  the  dependent  result  of  the  emotions, 
sentiments,  and  desires,  it  rather  also  shapes  and 
gives  character  to  the  emotions,  sentiments,  and  de- 
sires. To  have  some  relatively  low  and  unworthy 
plan  in  living  is,  indeed,  better  than  to  have  all  our 
consciousness  and  conduct  ruled  by  impulse  and  ca- 


WILL   ATiTD   CHARACTER  205 

price.     There  is  always  a  certain  dignity  belonging 
to  one  who  can  declare,  with  a  character  of  Brown- 


ing s  : 


•'  I  have  subdued  my  life  to  the  one  purpose 
Whereto  I  ordained  it  ; " 

or,  again : 

"  I  have  made  my  life  consist  of  one  idea." 

Freedom  of  Will. — It  by  no  means  belongs  to  the 
science  of  psychology  thoroughly  to  discuss  the 
question  whether  the  will  is  free  or  not.  The  thor- 
ough discussion  of  this  question  belongs  to  philos- 
ophy, and  is  connected  with  a  number  of  the  most 
abstruse  philosophical  problems.  But  without  doubt 
the  whole  problem  of  "  free  will "  arises  in  certain 
conscious  states,  which  psychology  must  take  ac- 
count of,  since  this  science  describes  and,  as  far  as 
possible,  explains  all  states  of  consciousness,  as 
such. 

Certain  peculiar  states,  when  looked  at  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  "/  wilV  that  is  in  them,  may 
be  called  the  "consciousness  of  freedom."  In  such 
states  the  following  particulars  are  to  be  noticed : 
(1)  In  willing,  in  the  highest  form  of  deliberate 
choice  or  planning,  the  consciousness  of  self-activity 
is  most  pronounced.  Such  deeds  of  will  I  regard  as, 
in  a  peculiar  sense  of  the  words,  "  my  ovm."  I  can, 
in  some  sort,  deny  or  reject  my  emotions  and  d(>- 
sires  as  having  surprised  and  overcome  mo ;  tho 
stronger  they  are,  the  more  passive  /  appear  before 
them.     80,  too,  the  clearer  and  more  C(Muplote  my 


206  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

ideas  and  thoughts  become,  the  more  do  they  seem 
to  have  the  character  which  fits  them  to  be  consid- 
ered as  thong-hts  necessary  to  others  also.  But  it 
is  /,  and  /  alone,  iliat  will ;  and  on  my  deliberate 
choices  and  plans  my /&//"  stamps  itself  with  a  pe- 
culiar signature. 

(2)  That  consciousness  which  is  fitly  expressed 
by  such  words  as  "  I  can  "  accompanies  all  genuine 
deeds  of  will,  in  their  highest  form.  AVlien  I  stand 
before  the  choice  and  contemplate  it  as  about  to  be 
made,  my  conviction  with  reference  to  it  is  irresist- 
ible: "  I  know  I  cany  And  when  I  stand  and  look 
behind  upon  the  choice  as  already  made,  and  feel 
moral  approbation  or  moral  shame,  I  have  the  con- 
viction "I  could  have  not,"  although  I  did ;  or  "I 
could  have,"  although  I  did  not.  The  conviction  of 
ability,  or  power  in  choosing  is  a  part  of  the  "  con- 
sciousness of  freedom ;  "  and  about  its  existence  and 
immense  significance  there  can  be  no  manner  of 
doubt.  (3)  The  two  preceding  phases  of  conscious- 
ness may  go  with  every  form  of  mental  life.  Thus 
I  iaiQ.j  freely  remember,  freely  imagine,  freely  think, 
freely  feel  either  joy  or  sufiering,  love  or  hate,  and 
every  form  of  sentiment  from  bodily  fear  to  rever- 
ence for  God.  For,  to  a  certain  extent.  Will  may 
enter  into  them  all  and  make  them  my  oimi — mani- 
festations of  my  power  of  self-control.  In  con- 
nection with  such  conscious  states  arise  (4)  the 
thought  and  feeling  of  "  imputability  "  or  "  respon- 
sibility." And  here  the  ethical  sentiments,  to  which 
reference  has    already  been  made,  come  strongly 


WILL   AND   CHARACTER  207 

into  play.  Siucc  I  "  impute  "  the  deed  of  will  to 
myself,  feel  that  /,  and  I  only,  am  "responsible  "  for 
it,  my  moral  self  -  approbation  or  disapprobation 
seems  to  me  "  reasonable  ; "  whereas,  otherwise,  it 
w^oidd  not. 

It  is  interesting  to  notice  that  all  attempts,  made 
bj''  those  who  deny  the  freedom  of  the  will,  to  break 
the  force  of  these  undoubted  facts  of  consciousness, 
really  have  no  meaning  themselves  unless  we  admit 
the  force  of  the  facts.  It  is  sometimes  argued  as 
though  ignorance  of  the  motives  which  determine 
the  will  were  the  source  of  the  conviction,  "  I  can," 
or  "  I  could."  But,  on  tlie  contrary,  no  argument 
would  ever  arise  as  to  liov)  this  conviction  were 
caused,  were  it  not  for  the  positive  and  unique  char- 
acter of  the  conviction  itself.  To  try  to  explain  the 
consciousness  "  I  can  "  by  ignorance  as  to  Avhy  "  I 
do  "  is  simply  absurd.  Dogs  do  not  think  of  them- 
selves as  not  free  ;  because  the  whole  consciousness 
out  of  which  the  conception  arises  of  being  free  and 
not  being  free  is  quite  foreign  to  them.  So,  too, 
whenever  we  "  excuse  "  ourselves  for  some  form  of 
conduct  because  of  the  siuldenncss  of  our  emotion  or 
the  stress  of  our  desires,  the  very  excuse  is  meaning- 
less unless  we  admit  the  consciousness  of  freedom 
as  something  with  whicli  this  cxpcnciicc  is  p.n-tly, 
or  Avholly,  in  coiitriist. 

The  Conception  of  Character. — TIk;  word  "  iliar.ulcr" 
is  very  frequr^ntly  used  in  l)()th  a  wiihu*  and  also  a 
narrower  meaning.  Sonu-iimes  it  stands  foi-  the 
sum-total  of  all  the  peculiarities  belonging  to  an  in- 


208  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

dividual,  includiuo^    all  that  comes  — more  strictly- 
speaking— uuder  "disposition,"  "  temperament,"  etc., 
as  well  as  the  habits  formed  by  exercise  of  self-con- 
trol.     But,  in  the  narrower  and  more  precise  mean- 
ing of  the  word,  character  may  be  defined  as  being- 
the  self-formed  hahits  of  will.     It  is  the  "  stamp  " 
that  we  give  to  ourselves  by  habitually  choosing 
and  holding  fast  to  certain  ends.      Of  course,  it  is 
practically  impossible  to  separate  wholly  between  a 
person's  "nature"  or  "natural  disposition,"  as  we 
say,  and  the  same  person's  "  character."     For  from 
the  very  first,  and  more  and  more  as  the  acquiring 
of  experience  and  the  development  of  mental  life 
goes  on,  this  natural  disposition  is   moulded,  not 
only  by  circumstances,  but  also  by  the  way  in  which 
we  take,  seize,  appropriate,  and  use  the  circumstances 
by  responsive  choices,  plans,  and,  in  general,  deeds 
of  will.     All  the  while,  then,  we  are  both  "being 
stamped,"  and  "  stamping  "  ourselves  ;  and  the  stamp 
of  character   which  results   is,  therefore,  due  to   a 
ceaseless  mixture  of  the  two. 

Development  of  Character. — It  is  i^lainly  impossible 
to  live  and  to  avoid  the  formation  of  character.  As 
we  shall  see  in  the  next  chapter,  the  great  ruling 
principles  under  which  all  mental  life  falls  tend 
constantly  to  settle  and  solidify  the  whole.  Even 
unreasoning  caprice  and  impulse,  constantly  in- 
dulged in,  work  themselves  into  the  structure  of 
character.  And  so  we  come  to  use  that  strange  and 
yet  most  impressive  term,  a  "  capricious  character  " 
—a  "  stamped  "  form  of  the  individual  mental  life. 


WILL   AKD   CHARACTER  209 

that  bears  tlie  stamp  of  being-  (contrary  to  the  very 
conception  of  a  "  stamji  ")  not  settled  or  fixed  or  to 
be  depended  upon  in  any  particular.  Yet  this  is 
really  not  inconsistent  with  the  old  Stoic  conception, 
that  settled  character  is  "  always  to  will  the  same 
and  nil  the  same  ;  "  or  the  other  saying,  that  "  char- 
acter is  a  habit  of  doing",  not  which  lias  the  Self,  but 
which  the  Self  w."  For  the  development  of  mental 
life  into  some  fixed  and  settled  form  of  character  neces- 
sarily residts  from  the  continued  existence  of  this  life. 
We  cannot  live  loitliout  acquiring  character, 

14 


CHAPTER  XIII 

TEMPERAMENT  AKD  DEVELOPMENT 

Children  sometimes  amuse  themselves  in  the  vain 
effort  to  find  two  individual  thing-s  which  are  pre- 
cisely alike ;  such  as,  for  example,  two  blades  of 
striped  grass  or  two  leaves  of  clover.  But  no  two 
precisely  similar  individuals  in  nature  are  ever  to  be 
found.  And  what  is  true  of  such  comparatively  in- 
significant natural  objects  is  even  more  true  of  the 
bodies  of  individual  men.  Strangers  frequently  have 
great  difficulty  in  telling-  twins  apart,  and  the  mem- 
bers of  other  races  are  apt  to  seem  to  travellers  in 
foreign  countries  much  more  nearly  alike  than  are 
the  members  of  their  own  race.  But,  certainly,  two 
adult  human  bodies  never  existed  in  which  careful 
observation  would  not  reveal  many  differences. 
What  is  true  of  the  developed  human  body  is  also 
true  of  the  human  mind.  Every  "  stream  of  con- 
sciousness "  runs  its  own  course  ;  and  the  character 
of  the  individual  states  which  compose  the  stream, 
as  well  as  the  order  of  their  succession,  differs 
from  the  character  and  order  of  every  other.  No 
two  minds  ever  developed  precisely  alike. 

While  all  this  is  true,  however,  it  is  also  true  that 
some  individuals  are  in  mental  disposition  and  char- 
acter much  more  alike  than  are  individuals  taken  at 


TEMPERAMENT  AND  DEVELOPMENT     211 

random  from  the  whole  commnllit3^  To  say  the 
same  thing-  in  another  way,  individual  minds  may 
be  grouped  together  into  classes,  so  that  those  well 
within  each  class  are  more  alike  than  are  those  be- 
longing to  any  two  different  classes.  And  the  basis 
of  the  classification  may  be  differently  chosen ;  it 
may  be  age,  or  sex,  or  what  we  are  accustomed  to 
call  "  temperament." 

Doctrine  of  Temperament — By  a  temperaineni  loe 
understand  any  marked  type  of  mental  constitution  and 
development  wJiich  seems  due  to  inherited  character- 
istics of  the  hodily  organism.  The  doctrine  of  tem- 
peraments is  very  old  indeed,  very  vague,  in  spite 
of  all  efforts  to  render  it  definite  and  scientific,  and 
yet  very  firmly  fixed,  not  only  in  the  popular  belief, 
but  also  in  the  opinion  of  competent  observers. 
There  are  certain  somewhat  plainly  marked  types  of 
minds.  In  the  speed  and  sensitiveness  of  mental 
reaction  to  sensory  stimulus  ;  in  the  speed  and  com- 
pleteness with  wliich  the  ideas  are  reproduced,  and  in 
the  rapidity  of  their  combination  as  well  as  the  man-/ 
ner  in  which  they  tend  to  combine  ;  iu  insight  into 
situations  and  quickness  of  decision ;  in  various  forms 
of  artistic,  moral,  and  religious  susceptibility — dif- 
ferent individuals  vary  greatly.  Such  variation  can- 
not all  bo  accounted  for  as  due  to  circumstances  or  to 
education.  Scnno  of  it  plainly  belongs  to  what  comes 
over  from  the  parentage  and  Ixdongs  to  tlie  cliiM  at 
the  beginning  ;  thatis,  som(!  i»f  i(  is  hereditary.  That 
part  of  it  wliich  is  hereditary  must  of  course  dcpiiitl 
upon    tli<;   character  of  tliat   wliicli   is  actually    iu- 


212  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

herited;   and  tliis  is  the  constitution  of  the  bodily 


organism. 


In  understanding-  the  doctrine  of  temperaments, 
however,  it  should  be  remembered  that  perfectly 
plain  and  pure  "  types  "  corresponding-  to  any  par- 
ticular temperament  are  comparatively  rare.  Most 
individuals  are  "  mixtures  "  of  different  types.  It 
may  also  be  explained  that  ag-e,  sex,  and  acquired 
character  so  blend  with  temperament  as  to  make  the 
whole  matter  more  complicated.  A  "  sentimental " 
woman  differs  from  a  sentimental  man  ;  a  "  choleric  " 
child  from  a  choleric  man ;  and  a  "  phleg-matic " 
good  man  may  scarcely  seem  at  all  like  a  phleg- 
matic criminal.  Different  races,  too,  while  they 
comprise,  each  one,  all  the  temperaments,  may  have 
a  sort  of  predominating  temperament  belonging  to 
the  race.  The  Japanese  people,  for  example,  are  un- 
doubtedly of  a  prevailing  sentimental  temperament. 

Kinds  of  Temperament. — Curiously  enough,  with  all 
the  difference  of  view  about  temperaments,  four 
kinds  have  been  pretty  g-enerally  recognized.  Of 
these  the  three  most  clearly  established  are  the  san- 
guine, the  choleric,  and  the  phlegmatic.  There  is 
still  another  kind  of  temperament,  the  characteris- 
tics of  which  are  not  quite  so  clearly  marked  and  for 
which  different  names  have  been  chosen.  We  shall 
call  it  by  the  term  which  Lotze  gave  to  it ;  and  we 
have  already  spoken  of  it  as  the  "  sentimental  tem- 
perament." A  largely  similar  type  of  mental  consti- 
tution has  sometimes  been  called  the  "  melancholic 
temperament ; "  but  this  name  is  less  fitting. 


TEMPERAMENT  AND  DEVELOPMENT    213 

A  man  or  woman  of  a  marked  sanfjuine  tempera- 
ment is  subject  to  lively  and  varied  excitability  and 
rapid  change ;  but,  in  general,  without  much  depth 
or  stability.  This  is  the  temperament  of  child- 
hood and  of  childish  men  and  women.  It  has  many 
but  short-lived  friendships,  quick  but  easily  disap- 
pointed hopes  and  other  forms  of  emotion.  The 
ideas  and  thoughts  run  and  sparkle  and  change ; 
but  are  not  so  apt  to  be  bedded  in  well-considered 
reasons  or  adopted  by  the  action  of  a  steadfast  will. 
The  choleric  person  may  be  less  quick  and  varied  in 
reactions ;  but  the  reactions  are  more  enduring, 
passionate,  and  determined,  and  the  conduct  as  well 
as  the  states  of  consciousness  less  subject  to  change. 
This  is  the  man's  temperament :  the  one  that  belongs 
to  strength  and  to  middle  life  and  to  the  successful 
in  life's  hardest  battles.  The  2^hlegmatic  tempera- 
ment is  comparatively  sluggish  in  mental  changes 
and  bodily  movements  ;  it  is  the  opposite  of  lively 
and  versatile,  although  it  may  be  either  tenacious  or 
Aveak  in  respect  of  will. 

AVe  have  all  also  noticed  certain  persons  who  are 
perhaps  among  the  most  interesting,  who  are  lively 
in  imagination,  susceptible  to  very  delicate  impres- 
sions of  sense  and  to  every  form  of  feeling.  l>ut 
they  are  moody  in  feeling,  indiflcrent  to  j)r('S(!nt 
practical  issues,  and  uncertain  in  condiid.  Tlicy 
get  stuck  fast  in  their  own  sentiments  and  cannot 
act;  or  else  they  act  impulsively,  and  tlicn  sulVcr  a 
collapse  of  will.  They  liave  the  poetic  or  artistic  — 
the  so-called  sentimental— iamiiovixmani     JJiit  with- 


214  PEIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

out  a  mixture  of  some  otlier  form  of  temperament,  or 
"without  very  favorable  circumstances  and  associa- 
tions to  stimulate  and  support  tliem,  tliey  seldom 
accomplish  much  in  jjoetry  or  in  any  form  of  art ; 
while  in  practical  affairs  they  are  likely  to  be  quite 
unsuccessfid. 

I  Basis  of  Temperament.—The  words  used  for  the 
different  main  temperaments  show  what  was  for- 
merly thought  as  to  the  physical  causes  of  the  tem- 
peraments. Thus  the  "  choleric  "  temperament  was 
supposed  to  be  due  to  excess  of  "bile,"  the  "san- 
guine" to  fulness  of  "blood,"  the  "phlegmatic"  to 
a  large  amount  of  "  phlegm,"  and  the  "  melancholic  " 
to  "  black  bile."  We  know  now  that  these  particular 
views  are  whimsical  and  quite  without  warrant,  but 
we  do  not  know  what  are  the  precise  characteristics 
of  the  constitution  of  the  body  in  which  the  causes 
for  these  differences  of  temperament  are  really  to  be 
found.  The  sensitiveness  to  stimulus  of  the  different 
organs  of  sense,  the  composition  of  the  blood,  the 
character  of  the  i^rocesses  of  digestion  and  secretion, 
etc.,  are  probably  among  the  principal  of  these  bodily 
causes. 

Difference  of  the  Sexes. — The  doctrine  of  the  dif- 
ferences which  exist  between  males  and  females  of 
the  human  species,  so  far  as  any  such  doctrine 
can  be  formed,  is  very  similar  to  that  of  the  tem- 
l^eraments.  Here,  too,  it  is  quite  impossible  in 
many  cases  to  tell  how  much  is,  strictly  speaking, 
natural  and  unchangeable ;  how  much  is  due  to  so- 
cial habits  and  changeable  products  of  civilization. 


TEMPEEAMENT  AND  DEVELOPMENT    215 

Moreover,  the  whole  question  is  just  now  being 
discussed  with  such  an  amount  of  heat  and  preju- 
dice that  the  scientific  spirit  is  difficult  indeed  to 
find  among  the  disputants. 

The  jihysical  dilfereuces  of  the  average  male  and 
female,  at  the  various  ages  of  life,  have  been  some- 
what carefully  measured  in  a  large  number  of .  in- 
stances. They  show  that  the  curve  which  indicates 
the  growth  of  the  two  differs,  and  that  the  relative 
proportion  of  the  different  members  of  the  body  is 
not  the  same.  The  length  of  the  arms  and  legs,  for 
example,  in  the  male  is  greater ;  the  centre  of  gravity 
is  higher,  the  step  is  longer.  In  the  nervous  and 
muscular  systems  there  are  even  more  marked  dif- 
ferences. The  average  weight  of  the  brain  of  the 
adult  male  is  to  that  of  the  female  as  about  1.4'24 
to  1.272.  There  appears  also  to  bo  a  difference  in 
the  very  earliest  development  of  the  convolutions 
of  the  cerebral  hemispheres,  and  of  the  balance  of 
the  parts — the  growth  of  the  male's  brain  in  front  of 
the  central  fissure  being  i)roportionately  greater. 
The  pulse  of  the  female  is  quicker  ;  the  blood  is  less 
in  quantity,  of  lighter  specific  gravitj^  and  contains 
fewer  red  corpuscles.  She  is  more  inclined  to  spas- 
modic and  crampiiig  action  of  the  muscles,  to  sud- 
den and  incalculable  secretions,  to  wide-spreading 
and  somewhat  chaotic  excitements  of  the  nervous 
system. 

There  is  just  as  little  doubt  that  im-ntal  -  and  more 
particularly  emotional — differences  correspond  to  tlie 
l)hysical  differences  which  have  just  been  pointed 


216  PEIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

out.  This  may  almost  be  said  to  follow  as  a  matter 
of  course  when  we  consider  that  the  muscles  are  the 
organ  of  will ;  that  the  bodily  feelings  enter  so 
largely  into  our  very  consciousness  of  Self ;  that 
discrimination,  judgment,  and  all  the  more  elaborate 
processes  of  thought  are  so  inevitably  influenced  by 
the  emotions  and  practical  activities  ;  and  that  the 
points  of  view  and  the  feelings  peculiar  to  sex  enter 
into  and  influence  the  entire  social  and  even  the 
moral  and  religious  life. 

Effect  of  Age  and  Race. — It  has  already  been  said 
(p.  214),  that  the  influence  of  temperament  is  modi- 
fied by  the  age  of  the  individual  and  that,  conversely, 
each  age  has  a  sort  of  temperament  peculiar  to  it. 
Thus  the  sanguine  and  sentimental  temperaments 
belong  to  childhood  and  youth,  the  choleric  to 
middle  life — especially  to  manhood — and  the  phleg- 
matic to  old  age.  In  the  development  of  mental  life, 
the  acquirement  of  a  use  of  the  senses,  and  of  the 
knowledge  which  comes  more  immediately  through 
them,  is  first  in  order.  But  these,  as  there  has  been 
abundant  reason  to  recognize  (compare  pp.  142fi*.), 
involve  a  certain  amount  of  discrimination,  of  judg- 
ment, and  even  of  making  quick  and  almost  instinct- 
ive inferences.  Certain  primary  forms  of  feeling  also 
accompany  the  earliest  use  of  the  senses  and  of  the 
intellect  in  gaining  an  acquaintance  with  the  infant's 
own  body  and  with  surrounding  things.  MeanAvhile, 
will  is  being  constantly  aroused  and  developed  in  the 
direction  of  attention  for  the  control  of  the  muscular 
apparatus  and  of  the  "  field  of  consciousness." 


TEMPERAMENT  AND  DEVELOPMENT     217 

It  is  liig'hly  probable  that  the  start  and  iirst 
growth  of  hiimau  mental  life,  as  a  matter  of  sen- 
sations chiefly,  come  before  the  birth  of  the  infant. 
Sensations  of  pressure,  of  motion,  and  of  temjiera- 
ture  may  very  likely  arise  at  this  period.  "With  in- 
fants born  prematurely  there  is  evidence  to  show 
that  they  taste  sugar  or  quinine  when  it  is  put  into 
the  mouth,  and  that  certain  odors  produce  agreeable 
or  disagreeable  sensations.  All  newly  born  children 
are  deaf,  because  of  a  mass  of  tissue  which  tills  the 
middle  ear.  The  eyes  of  the  infant  very  early  begin 
to  move  in  an  associated  and  coordinated  way ;  al- 
though probably  not  until  several  days  after  birth, 
in  most  cases.  The  skin  has  at  first  little  or  no  per- 
ceptive power,  and  the  muscles  are  undeveloped ; 
l)ut  the  brain  and  the  organs  of  sense  appear  to  be 
far  in  advance  of  the  mental  development  which 
would  seem  to  be  needed  to  correspond. 

The  psychology  of  the  difterent  races  of  men  ("  eth- 
nic psychology  ")  is  an  exceedingly  interesting  field 
of  research.  It  will  have,  however,  to  be  cultivated 
more  by  trained  psychologists  rather  than  by  mere 
biologists,  in  order  to  yield  any  fruits  of  much  value. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  student  already  familiar  witli 
general  psychology,  as  studied  in  tlio  modern 
method,  finds  in  the  examination  of  the  conscious- 
ness of  men  of  dificrent  races  a  large  anionnt  of 
illustrative  material  that  is  instructive.  AN'hat  in 
called  "  anthropology,"  as  studied  without  this  care- 
ful pr(!paration  of  acquaintance  with  modern  scien- 
tific psychology,  is  of  little  value  in  throwing  light 


218  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

on  the  real  development  of  man's  mental  life.  It  is 
rather  a  miscellaneous  collection  of  statistics  and 
antiquarian  relics,  from  which  few  or  no  x^iiut^iples 
can  safely  be  derived. 

General  Principles  of  Mental  Life. — "We  certainly 
cannot  talk  of  known  "  laws  "  controlling  the  action 
and  life  of  the  mind,  as  the  "  law  of  gravity  "  con- 
trols the  behavior  of  masses  of  matter  toward  each 
other  in  space,  or  the  "  law  of  equivalency  "  controls 
the  chemical  union  of  the  atoms  of  the  different 
material  elements  known  to  modern  chemistry.  All 
pretence  of  such  knowledge  in  psychology  is  viere 
jn-etence;  and  if  such  knowledge  is  necessary,  in  order 
to  a  "  science  "  of  the  mental  life,  then  no  science 
of  psychology  exists.  For  ourselves,  we  are  quite 
willing  to  go  further,  and  to  affirm  that  no  such  laws 
will  ever  be  discovered ;  and  that  no  science  of  mind 
comparable  to  mathematical  astronomy  or  to  mathe- 
matical chemistry  will  ever  exist.  This  we  believe 
to  be  true  for  the  very  good  reason  that  we  cannot 
speak  correctly  of  "  laws  controlling  "  in  the  realm 
of  mind  with  the  same  meaning  which  we  are  war- 
ranted in  ap[)lying  to  the  term  when  speaking  of 
material  masses  and  atoms.  The  discussion  of  this 
question,  however,  would  take  us  quite  beyond  our 
present  purpose,  over  into  the  iields  of  philosophy. 

Certain  general  principles  of  all  mental  life  may, 
however,  be  announced  in  the  sense  that  all  the  ac- 
tion and  growth  of  the  so-called  faculties  suggests 
and  confirms  generalizations  which  have  to  do  with 
all   men  —  vague   types   of  behavior,  to  which   the 


TEMPEMAMENT   AND   DEVELOPMEISTT  '219 

mental  life  of  every  individiTal  couforms,  because  it 
is  indeed  a  human  mental  life.  If  it  were  our  in- 
tention to  enter  upon  this  subject  thoroughly,  it 
would  be  necessary  to  point  out  what  these  uni- 
versal forms  of  behavior  are,  and  how  they  may  be 
recognized  and  proved  as  actually  belonging  to  the 
life  of  the  mind.  And  here  the  question  might  be 
discussed :  what  is  meant  by  saying,  for  example, 
that  all  tilings  exist  in  "  space"  and  in  "time  ;  "  but 
that  space  is  not  to  be  affirmed  of  the  existence  of 
7nind ;  while  time  most  certainly  belongs,  in  the 
forms  of  "  duration  "  and  "  succession,"  to  all  men- 
tal life.  Then  the  question  might  also  be  raised  as  to 
the  origin  and  nature  of  what  is  customarily  called 
"  casual  influence  " — whence  is  got  the  conception 
of  cause,  and  what  the  word  "  cause  "  really  means. 
Still  further,  if  the  activity  of  the  intellect  in  rea- 
soning were  searched  to  the  bottom,  then  the  eff'ort 
might  be  made  to  know  more  about  the  origin  and 
meaning  of  the  "principle  of  sufficient  reason  "  (al- 
ready spoken  of),  and  of  the  "  principle  of  identity  ; " 
and,  possibly,  also  of  the  fundamental  logical  [)riji- 
ciples. 

To  perform  tliis  work,  however,  wo  shall  not  at- 
tempt. Our  very  lirief  surface  explorations  in  ilic 
region  of  mental  plienomena  will  be  concluded  by 
calling  attention  to  the  following  four  ]>riiiciplcs 
which  must  bo  recognized  as  present  in  all  the  do- 
veloi)in('nt  of  mind. 

The  Principle  of  Continuity. — A  review  of  w  li.d  has 
been  seen  to  be  true  at  cveiv  stage,  of  our  iiivesti- 


220  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

gatiou  shows  tliat,  lohen  the  mental  life  is  regarded  as 
a  laJiole,  no  hreaks  or  sudden  leaps  are  found,  udiether 
as  hetween  its  faculties  or  their  elements  ;  or  as  hetioeen 
the  successive  different  states  and  stages  of  its  develop- 
ment. To  say  this  is  almost  the  same  thing  as  to  say 
that  the  mental  life  is  a  true  "development."  For 
some  kind  of  pretty  strict  "  continuity"  is  necessary 
to  all  development ;  although  in  organic  growth,  as 
in  the  growth  of  the  mind,  certain  epochs  and  pe- 
riods of  marked  and  relatively  sudden  change  are 
to  be  observed.  The  principle  of  continuity  applies, 
however,  to  the  mind  with  peculiar  force.  Because 
what  are  called  "elements,"  "faculties,"  "states," 
"  stages,"  etc.,  have  no  existence  whatever  apart  from 
that  continuously  flowing  life-movement,  whose  sub- 
ject is  called  "the  Mind." 

To  illustrate  this  principle,  one  might  refer  to 
nearly  everything  which  has  thus  far  been  said 
regarding  the  mental  activities.  For  example,  it 
was  found  that  the  almost  infinite  variety  of  sensa- 
tions belonging  to  some  of  the  senses — such  as  col- 
ors, sensations  of  musical  sound,  of  temperature, 
and  of  pressure  —  can  be  arranged  in  continuous 
series  or  scales  where  shades  of  quality  and  de- 
grees of  intensity  merge  into  each  other.  The  so- 
called  sensations  are,  in  all  actual  exiierience, 
"  woven  together  "  into  a  sort  of  continuous  texture. 
This  is  true,  for  instance,  of  tastes  and  smells,  of 
sensations  of  touch  and  muscular  sensations,  and 
even  of  sensations  of  color  and  muscular  sensations. 
The  same  principle  ap]ilies  to  the  so-called  faculties ; 


TEMPERAMENT   AND   DEVELOPMENT  221 

for  many  sensations  cannot  be  distiug'uislicd  from 
mental  imag-es  or  ideas ;  and  among-  ideas  those 
which  belong-  to  memory  and  those  which  belong  to 
imagination  often  cannot  be  distinguished.  Just 
where  mental  images  become  conceptions  and  where 
the  lines  are  drawn  between  the  recognition  of  per- 
ception and  true  acts  of  reasoning  cannot  easily  be 
discerned.  And  although  we  cannot  shade  into  each 
other,  by  a  continuous  gradation,  the  different  activ- 
ities belonging  to  the  three  faculties  of  intellect, 
feeling,  and  will,  we  do  find  that  they  are  always 
continuously  joined  and  blended ;  and  that  it  is  by 
no  means  easy  always  to  know  to  which  of  these 
three  faculties  certain  particular  states  of  conscious- 
ness should  be  assigned. 

Principle  of  Relativity.— This  principle  is  very 
closely  connected  with  the  principle  of  continuity. 
No  element,  or  state,  or  faculty  of  the  mental  life 
can  be  considered,  in  a  way  to  correspond  to  the  facts 
and  to  the  reality  of  that  life,  without  taking  other 
elements,  states,  and  faculties  into  the  account.  Or, 
every  individual  element^  or  state,  or  form  of  mental 
life  is  what  it  is  only  as  relative  to  other  elemeids,  states, 
and  forms  of  mental  life.  This  principle,  too,  admits 
of  almost  indefinite  illustration.  Sensations,  for 
example,  have  no  absolute  quality  or  amount,  in- 
dependent of  the  preceding  expectation,  of  the  con- 
ditions of  attention  under  which  tln^y  arise  in  con- 
sciousness, and  of  the  quality  and  amount  of  preced- 
ing and  sijjiultaneous  sensations  of  tlui  same  sense  or 
of  other  senses.     A  most  curious  illustration  of  tho 


222  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

force  of  this  principle  was  obtained  in  tlie  experi- 
ments to  which  reference  has  already  been  made 
(p.  14G).  No  one,  child  or  adult,  was  able  to  feel  the 
weight  of  a  certain  small  cylinder  to  be  equal  to  a 
certain  larger  cylinder,  although  the  two  were  exactly 
the  same.  In  many  instances  the  former  was  felt  to 
be  twice  (or  even  more)  as  heavy  as  the  latter ;  the 
reason  plainly  being  that  the  feeling  of  the  weight 
was  relative  to  the  influence  of  expectation  first  in- 
duced by  sight,  and  then  so  corrected  by  experience 
as  to  throw  the  judgment  over  to  the  other  extreme. 
The  Principle  of  Solidarity — The  development  of 
the  mental  life  tends,  in  a  very  unique  and  impressive 
way,  toward  a  sort  of  consolidation,  or  self-organ- 
izing, as  it  were.  For  it  is  a  principle  of  this  life, 
that  every  activity,  wliether  partial  or  more  general, 
influences  the  entire  developvient ;  and  that  thus  this 
development  tends  toward  some  unification  of  residt. 
Here  it  is  that  the  formation  of  habits  becomes  of 
such  immense  importance.  The  principle  of  habit 
belongs  both  to  body  and  to  mind ;  it  also  belongs  to 
every  organ,  and  even  to  every  tissue  of  the  body, 
and  to  every  faculty  of  the  mind.  Especially  are  the 
nervous  system  and  the  brain  brought  under  the  in- 
fluence of  this  principle.  A  person  with  a  sensitive 
brain  can  scarcely  wake  up  two  nights  in  succession 
at  the  same  hour  without  finding  a  tendency  de- 
veloping to  wake  again  and  again  at  the  same  hour. 
Let  a  man  be  lamed  for  some  time  so  that  he  cannot 
without  pain  bring  his  foot  down  squarely  when  as- 
cending a  pair  of  stairs,  and  the  chances  are  that  the 


temperamp:nt  and  development        223 

liabitnal  swiug-  of  that  leg  in  ascending-  a  pair  of 
stairs  will  remain  changed  during-  the  remainder  of 
his  life. 

In  infancy  and  youth  both  body  and  mind  are 
relatively  very  impressible  and  susceptible  to  the 
formation  of  new  habits.  This  fact  is  connected 
with  the  entire  character  of  the  tissues  and  of  their 
rate  of  repair  and  destruction.  But  with  advancing- 
age  an  actual  physical  consolidation  takes  place. 
The  tissues  become  less  mouldable,  less  impressible 
to  new  influences,  etc.  Something  similar  is  un- 
doubtedly a  principle  of  the  mental  life.  In  those 
persons  also  where  susceptibility  to  change,  caprice, 
and  perversity  of  thought,  of  feeling-,  and  of  conduct 
rule  most,  the  principle  still  holds.  Here,  too,  the 
very  capriciousness,  the  action  that  is  witliout  recog- 
nized rational  motive  and  intelligent  control  of  the 
will,  "  solidifies  itself."  For  every  mind's  life  must 
tend  toward  some  kind  of  unity  ;  and  this  is  what 
was  seen  to  be  true  when  the  formation  of  character 
was  discussed  {\).  208f.). 

Principle  of  Final  Purpose — Finally,  activity  to  some 
purpose,  or  end,  is  a  principle  of  mental  develo2'>ment. 
In  the  bodily  structure  and  development  the  prin- 
ciple of  final  i^urpose  is  recognizable  throughoiit. 
The  behavior  of  the  spinal  cord  of  a  frog,  when  it 
has  been  severed  from  the  brain,  illustrates  tliis 
])rinciple.  And  although  the  newly  born  infant  i)uts 
forth  many  movements  which  appear,  at  first  sight, 
to  servo  no  purpose  ("  random  automatic  move- 
ments"),   still    a   i)rof(iuiid<'r  view  sIkjws  liow  even 


224  PRIMER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY 

these  serve  the  end  of  giving-  it  the  intelligent  mas- 
tery of  its  own  mechanism  for  the  subsequent  attain- 
ment of  ends  consciously  recognized  and  adopted. 
But  this  principle  is  no  less  powerful  and  universal 
in  the  development  of  the  mind.  On  the  occurrence 
of  every  sensation  the  tendency  is  to  put  the  motor 
apparatus  to  working  in  a  manner  directed  to  some 
appropriate  end.  Ideas  have  a  sort  of  structure,  so 
to  speak,  and  thereby  serve  the  purposes  of  being 
guides  to  thought  and  conduct,  as  the  sensations 
from  which  they  originate  could  not  jjossibly  be. 
Every  process  of  reasoning  is  a  movement  of  the 
stream  of  consciousness  in  a  direction  toward  some 
end.  The  concluding  judgment  is  "  drawn "  on 
"  account  of  "  some  other  judgment,  and  so  as  itself 
to  serve  for  a  guide  to  conduct  or  to  some  still 
further  process  of  reasoning. 

This  principle  works,  as  do  indeed  all  the  other 
principles  of  mental  life,  largely  below  the  con- 
sciousness, as  it  were.  The  work  is  much  of  it— so  it 
would  seem — done  for  us  rather  than  hy  us  with  an 
intelligent  and  conscious  adoption  of  the  end  to  be 
reached.  But  the  true  and  higher  development  is 
attained  only  as  matters  are  more  thoroughly  put 
into  our  own  hands.  He  who  knows  himself,  who 
plans  his  own  life,  w^lio  takes  himself  in  hand  to  carry 
out  that  plan,  and  who  selects  such  a  plan  as  will 
worthily  dominate  and  control  all  the  mental  facul- 
ties— he  it  is  w^ho  is  most  entitled  to  be  called  a  true 
Soul,  or  Mind.  A  }ylanlesfi  mental  life  is  scarcely 
worthy  to  be  called  a  genuine  mental  life. 


THE   PHILOSOPHICAL  WORKS 

OF 

George  Trumbull  Ladd 

Professor  of  Philosophy  in  Yale  University 


Primer   of   Psychology. 

By  GEORGE   TRUHBULL   LADD,  Professor  of  Philosophy  in  Yale 
University.     i2ino,  $i.oo  uct. 

This  work  is  in  no  sense  a  condensation  of  any  larger  work, 
but  has  been  prepared  by  the  author  expressly  for  the  use  of 
elementary  classes  in  schools  and  colleges.  The  need  for  such 
a  book  has  been  great,  and  coming  as  it  does  from  the  mas- 
terly hand  of  this  eminent  author,  its  value  will  be  at  once 
recognized. 


Psychology  :     Descriptive    and    Explanatory. 

A  Treatise  of  the  Phenomena,  Laws,  and  Development  of  Human 
Mental  Life.  By  GEORGE  TRUMBULL  LADD,  Professor  of  Phil- 
osophy in  Vale  University.      8vo,  $4.50. 

The  book  is  designed  to  cover  the  entire  ground  of  descrip- 
tive and  explanatory  psychology  in  a  summary  way,  reserving 
speculative  discussion  and  the  philosophy  of  mind  for  another 
volume.  It  is  carefully  adapted  to  the  needs  of  pupils  and 
teachers,  while  not  exclusively  prepared  for  them. 

The  point  of  view  taken  leads  the  author  into  an  analysis  nf 
all  the  mental  processes,  but  especially  into  the  endeavor  Icj 
trace  the  development  of  mental  life,  the  formation  and  growth 
of  so-called  "faculty,"  and  the  attainment  of  knowledge  and 
of  character. 

"  I  know  of  no  other  work  that  ^'ves  so  fjood  a  critical  survey  "i  ilic  wlidle 
field  as  this."— I'rof.  1{.  1'.  Hownic,  Boston  University. 

"  Any  writing  of  his  is  a  matter  to  be  grateful  for.     This  hook  will  largely 
increase  our  debt."— Prof.  G.  II.  rAi.Mim,  IIarvar<i  University. 


Elements  of   Physiological    Psychology. 

A  Treatise  of  the  Activities  and  Nature  of  the  Mind  from  the 
Physical  and  Experimental  Point  of  View.  By  GEORQE  TRUM- 
BULL  LADD,  Professor  of  Philosophy  in  Yale  University.  8vo, 
$4.50. 

This  is  the  first  treatise  that  has  attempted  to  present  to 
English  readers  a  discussion  of  the  whole  subject  brought  down 
to  the  most  recent  times.  It  includes  the  latest  discoveries, 
and  by  numerous  and  excellent  illustrations  and  tables  and  by 
gathering  material  from  scores  and  even  hundreds  of  separate 
treatises  inaccessible  to  most  persons  it  brings  before  the  reader 
in  a  compact  and  yet  lucid  form  the  entire  subject. 

The  work  has  three  principal  divisions  of  which  the  first 
consists  of  a  description  of  the  structure  and  functions  of  the 
Nervous  System  considered  simply  under  the  conception  of 
mechanism  without  reference  to  the  phenomena  of  conscious- 
ness. The  second  part  describes  the  various  classes  of  corre- 
lations which  exist  between  the  phenomena  of  the  nervous 
mechanism  and  mental  phenomena,  with  an  attempt  to  state 
what  is  known  of  the  laws  which  maintain  themselves  over 
these  various  classes.  The  third  part  introduces,  at  the  close 
of  these  researches,  the  presentation  of  such  conclusions  as 
may  be  legitimately  gathered  or  more  speculatively  inferred 
concerning  the  nature  of  the  human  mind. 

"  Professor  Ladd  deserves  warm  thanks  for  undertaking  the  preparation  of 
such  a  work." — Mitid. 

"  He  writes  at  once  as  a  scientist  bent  on  gaining  the  fullest  and  clearest 
insight  into  the  phenomena  of  mind,  and  as  a  metaphysician  deeply  concerned 
with  the  sublime  question  of  the  nature  of  the  spiritual  substance" 

^AMES  Sully  in  The  Acadetny. 

"Well  written,  in  excellent  tone  and  temper,  in  clear,  even  style,  free  from 
needless  technicalities,  and  with  due  regard  to  the  necessary  difference  be- 
tween mere  speculation  or  surmises  and  established  facts." 

— New   York  Times. 

"  This  admirable  work  by  Professor  Ladd  deserves  a  hearty  welcome  from 
the  English  public  as  the  first  book  of  sufficient  extent  of  subject  matter  and 
depth  of  thought  to  take  the  place  in  American  and  English  literature  that  has 
been  held  since  1874  in  both  Germany  and  France  by  Wundt's  '  Griindszuge 
der  Physiol ogischen  Psychologic.'  " — Westminster  Review. 

"His  erudition  and  his  broad-mindedness  are  on  a  par  with  each  other; 
and  his  volume  will  probably,  for  many  years  to  come,  be  the  standard  work 
of  reference  on  the  subject." — Prof.  William  James  in  The  Nation. 


Outlines    of    Physiological    Psychology. 

A  Text=book  of  Hental  Science  for  Academies  and  Colleges.  By 
GEORGE  TRUHBLLL  LADD,  Professor  of  Philosopliy  in  Yale 
University.     Crown  8vo,  $2.00. 

The  volume  is  not  an  abridgment  or  revision  of  the  lacger 
book,  Elements  of  Physiological  Psychology,  which  is  still  to  be 
preferred  for  mature  students,  but,  like  it,  surveys  the  entire 
field,  though  with  less  details  and  references  that  might  embar- 
rass beginners.  Briefer  discussions  of  the  nervous  mechanism, 
and  of  the  nature  of  the  mind  as  related  to  the  body,  will  be 
found  in  the  "  Outlines  "  ;  while  the  treatment  of  relations 
existing  between  excited  organs  and  mental  phenomena  offers 
much  new  material,  especially  on  "Consciousness,"  "Memory," 
and  "  Will." 

Later  chapters,  considering  mind  and  body  as  dependent 
upon  differences  of  age,  sex,  race,  etc.,  and  giving  conclusions 
as  to  the  nature  of  the  mind  and  as  to  its  connection  with  the 
bodily  organism,  reward  the  student  who  masters  this  book. 

The  author  aims  to  furnish  a  complete  yet  correct  text-book 
for  the  brief  study  of  mental  phenomena  from  the  experimental 
and  physiological  point  of  view.  Both  pupil  and  teacher  have 
been  considered,  that  the  book  may  be  readily  learned  and 
successfully  taught. 

"  I  think  it  an  honor  to  American  science  and  sciiolarship  that  the  best 
English  books  on  physiological  psychology  should  come  from  an  American 
university." — J.  McK.  Cattell,  University  of  Pennsylvania. 

"  As  an  introduction  to  the  study  of  physiological  psychology  it  is  abso- 
lutely without  a  rival." — H.  N.  Gardiner,  Smith  College. 

"  For  its  purpose  there  is  not  a  belter  text-book  in  the  language." 

—  The  Nation. 

"  The  account  he  gives  is  a  succinct  and  clear  digest  of  the  subject,  and  the 
illustrations  leave  nothing  to  be  desired." — The  British  Medical  Journal. 

"  An  important  contribution  to  the  e.\'perimcntal  and  i)liysiological  study  of 
mental  phenomena." — Glasfcou/  Herald. 

"  Professor  Ladd,  in  giving  to  the  world  his  '  Outlines  of  Physiological 
Psychology,'  has  reared  a  monunient  that  marks  a  deciilcd  atlvance  in  the 
American  literature  of  physiological  philosophy.     It  will  be  a  slandard  work  " 

— Jioston  Times. 

"  For  lucidity  of  statement  and  comprehensiveness  of  ireatmcnt  within 
moderate  limits,   Professor   Ladd's  'Outlines'  is,  we  believe,  unsurpassed." 

— Educational  Jiiiirnal  of  Canada. 


Introduction  to  Philosophy. 

An  Inquiry  after  a  Rational  System  of  Scientific  Principles  in 
their  Relation  to  Ultimate  Reality.  By  GEORGE  TRUMBULL 
LADD,  Professor  of  Philosophy  in  Yale  University.      8vo,  $3.00. 

The  hope  of  the  author,  as  expressed  in  the  Preface  and 
incorporated  in  the  title,  is  that  this  book  may  serve  to 
"introduce"  some  of    its  readers   to  the  study  of  philosophy. 

Among  those  for  whom  it  is  intended  may  be  first  men- 
tioned the  young  in  the  later  years  of  our  higher  educational 
institutions.  It  is,  however,  not  a  technical  book  for  instruc- 
tion, such  being,  in  the  opinion  of  the  author,  unbecoming  a 
study  of  problems  which  invite  reflection  and  end  in  opinion. 
But  there  are  others  who  share  in  the  general  piirsuit  after  a 
knowledge  of  philosophical  questions.  None  who  are  thought- 
ful escape  the  mysteries  of  which  life  itself  is  made  up,  and  to 
all  earnest  inquirers  the  book  appeals  especially.  The  language 
has  been  simplified  to  the  utmost,  though  the  questions  are  of 
such  nature  that  new  terms  and  unfamiliar  language  sometimes 
occur  of  necessity,  yet  all  is  found  to  be  intelligible  and  clearly 
stated.  Finally  it  may  be  said  that  the  author  has  not  left 
himself  entirely  concealed  in  the  treatment  of  the  subject.  He 
modestly  makes  the  confession  that  his  own  views,  to  an  extent 
positive  as  well  as  critical,  appear  in  the  pages,  and  to  the 
public  this  makes  the  book  of  double  value  and  interest. 

CONTENTS:    The   Source   of    Philosophy  and   its   Problems  — Relation   of 
Philosophy  to  the  Particular  Sciences  —  Psychology  and   Philosophy — 
The  Spirit  and  the  Method  of  Philosophy— Dogmatism,  Skepticism,  and 
Criticism — The  Divisions  of  Philosophy— The  Theory  of  Knowledge — 
Metaphysics — Philosophy  of  Nature  and  Philosophy  of  Mind — Ethics — 
.(Esthetics  —  Philosophy     of    Religion  —  Tendencies     and     Scliools     in 
Philosophy. 
"  The  study  of  his  book  will  be  a  discipline  in  slirewd  and  portrayed  rea- 
soning, and  open  up  a  world  of  ideas  that  will  add  scope  and  enjoyment  to  the 
student's  mind.     We  give  it  our  unqualified  endorsement." 

—  The  Quarterly  Review. 
"  In  all  its  aspects  we  are  sure  Professor  Ladd's  work  will  be  welcomed." 

— Herald  and  Presbyter. 
"The  entire  discussion  is  fresh,  candid,  and  able.     It  is  not  only  an  intro 
duction,  it  is  also  a  contribution  to  philosophy." 

— Post-Graduate  Wooster  Quarterly. 


CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS,    Publishers, 
153=157  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York. 


J.HiS     UUUK.    IS    X»UiJ    UXl    l/llC    idOL    UctLC    btUilipCU     UtJiUW 


1      1931 


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